Hell on Earth
by Lex Sterling
Summary: The mind can be a terrible thing. It can toy with you and turn you against yourself before you even realize it. Nick always knew he had demons, but he had never thought they'd catch up to him. Edited 4/9/2012
1. Chapter 1

He didn't believe in God.

He had never had had a reason to. Maybe he was too vain or perhaps too stubborn to believe in something he couldn't touch.

Nick scoffed quietly, pressing his back harder against the cold cement wall of some cramped and unwelcoming safe room they had managed to hole themselves up in. Outside the wind and rain howled like an angry demon. His heels scrapped against the ground as he pressed himself harder against that unforgiving cement.

He'd be back out there—his eyes wandered to the safe room door that was piled with all the junk they could possibly salvage from the room. Tomorrow would be another day of zombie bullshit. Something new and something more deadly than the next always seemed to find them, beat them, tear them down and leave them on the verge of life only so they could limp to some shitty shack to clumsily nurse their stinging wounds just so they could do it all over again. And out here, in this stupid southern state, it wasn't just the god damn zombies that were trying to kill you. It was everything. The damn bugs, the fucking alligators, the god damn weather for Christ sake. Everything seemed to be trying to kill them.

The conman finally tore his eyes from the barricaded door and hung his head low. He felt this bubbling madness consuming him. He had always known that there were some pretty awful demons in his brain, but he had always been able to drown them out. Be it smokes, liquor or women, he had found a way to ease the demons down and give him one more day. Another day to live, to sin—to do whatever the fuck he wanted.

But after this damned infection, he hadn't been able to do anything he _wanted_. He shook with the thought of some hard liquor straight on the rocks, choked on his dry throat at the pseudo-taste of cigarettes, nearly whimpered at the thought of supple woman's flesh at his fingertips. God… he knew it'd never be the same. Fuck, for all he knew he was shut in the room with the last four god damn people on earth. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He was trembling now, in a way that made him pissed at himself and at the same time terribly afraid. He had been this bad only once before. He could feel that same feeling, that same awful and helpless feeling overtaking him. Twelve years ago he had hit rock bottom when the only thing that had put up with his asshole ego had finally thrown the white flag and retreated from his life forever. God damn that bitch. Curse her to hell and back again. She almost had made him undo himself. But he was stronger than that. A few months binging on cigarettes and booze had saved him from himself.

But tonight he had none of those things. Tonight he had silence, the occasional shuffle and intake of breath as one of his companions awoke in a startled fit of wasted adrenaline and himself…

God—himself! Shit, he was his own worse enemy. He knew that no one in the world would ever kill him. No matter how many people he fucked over he'd be all right. No one could kill him. Not even God.

But that was where fear came in. Nick didn't fear much, but when his mind got going, when it worked into the deepest and most sensitive parts of his emotions, it knew how to get in, dig and dig and twist and jar about all the most dreadful feelings in the world. No, no. No man or zombie would kill Nick. Nick would kill himself first.

His hand shook as it rested on the pistol strapped to his thigh. Man he was really doing this, wasn't he? For a moment he pitied his companions, but quickly realized that the startling sound of one shot would soon be erased. They'd probably be left with bitter smiles and praises. He was an asshole, after all. Although they'd lose a great shot, they'd lose the pessimist. That one that made them always question if they'd really get it out all right. In the end, Nick could care less what they thought. He would be too busy being dead to give a flying fuck.

His trembling hand guided the pistol out and he held it against his shaking legs, trying hard to catch his breath. Shit. This was happening. He couldn't think of any reason to not stop. He had nothing anymore. The world was a fucking war zone, people were eating each other, everything that had meant anything to him was nothing now. He'd never have the life he had so enjoyed. The world was a shit-hole now and the last god damn thing anyone cared about was money—and that was the only thing he had ever had any desire to cherish. You were a man by what you could afford. That was a fact.

But facts these days were becoming fiction.

He closed his eyes and lifted to pistol to his temple. Damn it… just do it. Damn it. Just get it over with. Just one little twitch. One little spasm of your god damn finger will end it all. Just fucking do it already. Just fucking do it.

"Nick?"

Nick's eyes shot opened and he jerked about, nearly pulling the trigger in a panic but his hand had froze. His chest felt like ice but his eyes burned. He was sure his heart just stopped. Good, maybe he was dead.

Although bent on ending it all, his eyes still for some reason could not look away as Ellis cautiously moved towards him—and had he been sleeping earlier, it was not evident in his face anymore. He looked stunned, horrified and terribly too worried for Nick's liking. Nick moved slightly, replacing the pistol barrel more urgently but that desperate look Overalls gave him made him pause.

Ellis continued to move towards him slowly at first, but when Nick just continued to give him that dumbfounded holy-shit-I-can't-believe-you-caught-me expression the man hurried the last few feet and reached out to place his hand over the conman's. Nick continued to give Ellis the dumbfounded expression as the pistol lifted up and slowly away from his head. Nicks fingers twitched and went still as the pistol flopped innocently into Ellis' other hand.

"Holy shit, Nick…" Ellis whispered, setting the pistol aside. He gave the gun a horrified look then turned his wounded eyes back to the conman. "Man, I know it's bad an all, but that ain't the way to go."

Nick stared, breathing ragged and painful sounding. His lip trembled and he wanted nothing more than to shove the hick aside, grab the pistol and finish what he had started. But he didn't. Ellis moved closer and much to Nick's own growing horror brought him into a tight embrace. Nick attempted to fight it, to shove the other way, to scream at him that he should have just rolled over looked the other way and shoved his fucking fingers in his ears. But he didn't. He simply sat there limply as the other hugged him more insistently.

"Come on, man. Talk to me. You know you didn't come all this way jus' to die. Right, Nick? Nick…?"

Damn it… If there was a God he was laughing at him now. Laughing cruelly. Hysterically, like some god damn madman out of some cheesy horror film. Fuck you, Nick. Paybacks a bitch. Fuck. Fuck it all to hell.

Nick resisted the urge to cry as long as he could, but when he finally gave in it came flooding out of him like a storm. He clumsily reached out to hug the other close to him as he sobbed openly into the others shoulder. And bless Ellis, for once in his life he kept his mouth shut and just held him.

And damn it. Why him? Why the kid with the southern twang and boyish smile? The god damn hick? If Nick had any will left in him he probably would have simply throttled the life from Ellis and kill all witnesses to his breakdown. Nick had done nothing to keep the boy from hating him. He had made it very clear what he thought of Ellis. He was an unintelligent, over talkative annoying little fuck. And god damn, that same kid was here holding him, stroking his back comfortingly as he sobbed like a little bitch.

He must have been pretty loud, because Nick soon became aware that Rochelle and Coach were somewhere nearby, alarmed and totally thrown off by the whole Mr. Smooth-Sobbing-His-Brains-Out unfolding before their eyes. Man, this must be some spectacle to withhold. Nick was falling from grace. Fucking far from grace and everyone in the fucking world knew it.

No one said anything for the longest time. Finally his throat hurt too much from raw emotion. The conman released his grip on Ellis and leaned slowly back against the wall. Eyes staring, unseeing; searching in a way that seemed as though he was sifting through some terrible and intangible nightmare.

Finally Nick swallowed, risked a glance to Ellis who was giving him this pained expression and then slowly looked away. Holy shit. This did not just happen. He did not just break down in the arms of the most annoying fuck in the world while Miss-Everything-Will-Be-All-Right and Mister-Nothing-Bothers-Me gaped at the show.

Nick bounced the back of his head off the wall, searching for words but he could think of nothing.

"Nick, honey…" Rochelle started but Nick quickly shook his head. Fuck, he didn't want to listen to it. He didn't care what motherly thing she'd say. What pearl of fucking wisdom she'd spill out of her. Christ, god damn hill billy just fucked his cool exterior for good now. Everyone knew that he had cracked and it'd be harder than shit to glue all the pieces back together.

"Let's get some rest," Coach offered quietly as a long silenced filled the air. Rochelle reached out to gently squeeze Nick's shoulder and she gave him one last look before she and Coach returned to their former sleeping areas. Ellis, however, didn't move an inch.

Nick looked to him, annoyed. The kid still had this stupefied look on his face. The conman swallowed thickly. Fuck, what could he say? 'Fuck off now, I'm fine.' But he couldn't quite say it. There was something in that sad puppy-eyed expression that Nick simply just couldn't tear into it.

"Nick… if you ever need someone to talk to… You know I'll listen, right?" Ellis scooted over so that they sat side by side—leaving Nick and his gun uncomfortably out of reach of each other. "I mean, that's what friends are for, right?"

Friends. Ellis thought they were friends? Nick almost laughed out loud, but he was too god damn sick and tired of feelings anything so he simply closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep. He couldn't listen to that babbling idiot. Ellis looked on at the other man for a long time until he rested his head back against the wall and soon followed in a fitful sleep.

A/N:

**EDIT: I'm in the process of fixing grammar and mostly Ellis HORRID accent. But this new uploading thing is a pain in the ass :l**

Warning: Swearing like a Sailor.

Okay, to be honest... I needed to write this more for myself than for anything else. Just to sort out a few personal things and so in a way I'm sort of unsure of where to continue or if I should. I tend to drop my angst on some of my more favorite characters. Sorry, Nick. I find this scenario probably unlikely, but probable. Take it my poor unsuspecting friend. B(

So, yeah. I suppose I'll see if there's any interest with this and maybe that'll inspire me to continue. I really suck at keeping up with fanfictions since I lose interest, but at least with Left 4 Dead 2 I can play a campaign and think about it without much effort unlike most other games

If I do ever continue this, I suspect it'll be a Nellis story. I'm just okay with that pairing. More than okay.. but whatever. Ranting. Yeah, I do that.

Them 4 belong to Valve.


	2. Chapter 2

"Ellis. Ellis, sweetie, wake up," Rochelle called softly, shaking the little farm boy awake. Ellis started at first but with a gentle pat on the shoulder and easy smile from his awakener, he relaxed, blinking up at her with sleepy eyes. "Come here—and be _quiet_."

Ellis glanced slowly to his left where Nick still slept quietly. The conman's face was shifted away from Ellis and his bruised and cut hands were folded neatly in his lap. At first glance you may have thought he had fallen into a peaceful slumber, but at closer examination there was this strange anxious look still on his face. As if not even sleep could quite quiet the thoughts in his head.

Ellis scrambled to his feet as quietly as he could and when he had barely righted himself, Rochelle had grabbed his elbow and veered him off to the other side of the safe room to stand with Coach.

Ellis glanced nervously between the two of them and offered one of his unsure boyish grins. "Um… Hey?"

"What happened last night?" Rochelle breathed, risking a glance at the still sleeping conman.

Ellis stuttered, reaching up to run his fingers under his cap and take hold of his greasy locks. "Um…uh… Well…" So… they really didn't know the _full_ extent of what had happened? Aw man, Ma always said it was wrong to lie but… for some reason it seemed more wrong to just blurt out that he may have just witnessed something real awful coming from Nick—I mean, come on, _Nick_! "You know… this is a zombie apocalypse and all… E-Everyone loses it here and there… I mean, I guess it was just Nick's time to like… Ya know… Show that he's human too...?"

At first Ellis wasn't sure if they'd buy his explanation because they gave him one of those stares that his Ma use to give him when she knew he was hiding something. He was positive that if they continued to stare long enough—like how Ma always did—he was going to spill everything. Ellis panicked and did what he did best—he began to rant…

"I mean it remind's me of, like, this one time that Keith and I got lost out on this huuuge lake and he was so sure we were gonna die, but I kept tellin' Keith we can still see land, man, we ain't gonna die! But he didn't believe me and all, and so he started carvin' out his will in the side of the boat and I swear, right when he finished willin' his stuff away—I was in it too, ya know, the will I mean. I was makin' fun of him 'bout that. I mean, like, why would he will somethin' to me when I was there with him? But, anyways, right when he finished—"

"Ellis," Rochelle said quietly, smiling patiently to him. Ellis stopped talking immediately and did his best to hide the guilt seeping up inside of him. "I'm just glad Nick had someone to talk to. Maybe he's warming up to you. About time… I was beginning to think he was an emotionless monster."

...Nick shifted slightly and blinked his eyes opened slowly. God… damn. This place still? He leaned forward slightly but not enough to draw attention to himself. He wasn't sure he cared to share with the others he was awake—he glanced to his right and noticed he sat alone. Fantastic.

His eyes fell upon his pistol laying barely an arms length away. Dull, scuffed black surface taunting him. He sneered at it before leaning over to pluck it off the ground and shove it angrily into its holster at his thigh. He let out a huff of breath as his eyes rose, noticing the cluster of the other three. He could hear Ellis voice rambling and his insides boiled. God damn snitch. Nick gnashed his teeth together and looked away. Fuck… this was the last thing he needed. Honestly, if the zombies weren't bad enough, why not throw in some whiney, overly sympathetic snot-nosed brats?

He sat there fuming until they noticed him. Ellis stiffened, glanced about hurriedly and then began to busy himself with packing ammo and weapons onto himself.

"Boy," Coach started, annoyed as he moved to stand beside him."You can't carry all that yourself, if you fall over you'll never be able to get back up." Ellis flushed furiously at this comment and began to hastily remove everything he had begun to shove on.

But it was Rochelle, of course, who took the time to wander over to the conman and offer her little spiel. "Nick?"

He looked up at her, eyes blazing with fire. So that fucking hick _had_ spilled everything, huh? What was she going to do, take his gun away? Make him fight with a fucking skillet? Jesus Christ.

"Sorry, Nick, but it looks like there's nothing to eat this morning. Come on now, on your feet." She offered her hand and Nick couldn't quite hide his surprise. Well… that wasn't exactly what he had been expecting. He allowed her to help him up and then straightened, staring down into her half-hearted-attempt-to-smile face. "Still have to get that diesel, so just hang on. It can't be much further and then before you know it, we'll be out of here."

Nick almost laughed right in her face. Sure, maybe it was only a mile or two away, but she seemed to forget that they'd be wading through hundreds—maybe thousands of infected humans ready to tear them limb from limb. Yeah, sweetie, it was just a fucking stroll through the park and we'll be back on Virgil's boat heading for New Orleans where we'll be welcomed with opened arms, a shower and a gourmet meal. Yeah, sweetheart, you keep thinking that.

He pushed past her without a word and stormed over to the ammo deposit. Ellis glanced timidly to him before shuffling away and standing quietly before the door. A handful of Infected had wandered down the nearby hallway and upon seeing a fresh new victim charged the door, screaming and spit flying from their rasping mouths as they clawed and chewed savagely at the barrier. Ellis took a step back, startled.

Nick silently jerked on everything he could possibly carry before turning about to face the exit. He pulled the very same pistol he had almost off-ed himself earlier with and simultaneously shot each of the slobbering Infected one by one in the head. They crumbled to the ground like paper dolls, throaty gasps and groans escaping their lips as they piled before the door.

Christ… Watching Nick shoot those zombies was… chilling. Any emotion that Ellis had seen last night was gone. If Ellis didn't know any better, he would have thought maybe Nick was a zombie too.

"Help me get the door opened, Overalls," Nick said flatly, shoving the pistol back into its holster. He pulled the bar up and together the two heaved themselves against the door—shoving bodies aside like piles of garbage. "Are we ready?" Nick glanced back, leaning against the door to keep it ajar, "Well?"

"All right, let's get some gas!" Coach called enthusiastically, hiking up his weapon strap as he marched out confidently.

The three exited and Nick watched them go. He took in one shuddering breath that only seemed to make his chest ache and regretting every second of it, followed. This was going to be some real fucking cakewalk, huh?

* * *

He moved in a daze and he wasn't quite sure why. This whole thing was starting to feel like a dream. No—a nightmare. Nightmares are something you wish you'd wake up from, dreams are just something you shrug off the next morning. Jesus… this was the longest nightmare he had ever endured.

"Shit, looks like we got to hit this switch for the elevator," Coach said, glancing down over the building. "I think that's a sugar cane field down there. And damn, I hear a witch—maybe two." He did not dare to offer there may be more. "Well, I'm hittin' it. Get ready." The man balled up his fist and slammed it to the up button. There was a debilitating shriek and a blare of lights as the elevator nosily made its way upward.

Nick groaned inwardly. Fuck, they'd never get break, would they? Now every god damn zombie within a mile knew there was fresh meat just standing idly by while this elevator took its sweet time making it's way up. Great. This just seemed all worth it. Thanks, Overalls. Real fucking southern gentleman you are.

The hordes seemed to never end and it appeared as though all the ammo in the world wouldn't be able to save them. Screaming, flailing limbs tore into them, nails dragged through their skin and opened little annoying scratches that stung like hell but wouldn't kill. Nick grappled with a particularly aggressive Infected that had taken to gnawing at his arm insistently. He managed to shove it away, but not before it took a mouthful of suit with it.

The zombie fell away in a flail, and almost immediately was on its feet again. Fuck, was it that stubborn? Nick had half the mind to let it simply chew away his insides and let it just end this stupid struggle already. However, Ellis spun around and with all his strength heaved his axe down and decapitated the creature. Its rotting head popped off like a bottle cap and rolled away. Ellis stood over the zombie, heaving and staring hard at the conman.

"Hey, man, you all righ'?" Ellis asked quietly. Nick was leaning heavily against the wall, panting, blood soaking threw his left sleeve. "Nick?"

"Elevator's here!" Rochelle called, "Come on, guys. Get inside."

Nick made no effort to move—he was staring, blankly, eyes glossy and emotionless and so Ellis tentatively reached out to tugged at his sleeve. Nick blinked once and glanced up, seemed to realize where he was, and silently moved into the elevator. Ellis followed.

The elevator jarred loudly as hinges began to grind as it began to make its way down. It was an uncomfortable silence. Their bodies radiated with heat and the smell of blood was thick in the air. In the distance, thunder was rumbling and the air was heavy with humidity. And not-so-far-away there was the sob and wail of witches. To say the least, Ellis understood why Nick felt the way he did. This sure was depressing.

"Hey man, let me fix you up before we go out there," Ellis said, pulling the first aid from his back. Nick looked lazily to him and then down to himself, seemingly for the first time noticing his bloody arm. Ellis pulled a few bandages out and began to wrap it tightly over Nick's wound, "Hey, it ain't so bad, Nick. Does it hurt?"

Nick failed to reply and so Ellis finished his amateur patch job as quickly as he could. The uncomfortable silence continued until the elevator came to a screeching halt. The doors opened.

"Aw, man, this sugar cane field sucks! I can't see a damn thing—" Before Ellis could finish, thunder boomed and the heavens vomited a hailstorm right onto their heads. Penny sized balls of pure ice slammed against them and the scream of an enraged witch reverberated somewhere to the left. "Holy shit, guys..."

"Stay close, boys, we're going to have to run through this field as fast as we can." Rochelle pointed, and although it was hard to see, it was still barely in view, "See that sign up there? If you get lost, just follow that sign… and watch for that witch, she sounds pretty pissed."

No one said anything as they half ran, half sprinted through the wavering stalks of sugar cane. It slapped against them, stinging at opened wounds and tearing their eyes. They dared to sprint only because they feared what they may find in this sea of green, but ran in fear that they'd stumble across something they'd be too scared to face. Shit, this place was like an ice storm of miserable. Then, probably only because God found it amusing, a hard rain swept over them in a heavy shield of white.

Shit… He felt so helpless, so alone and weak. The conman shuddered and reached out blindly behind himself as he ran, hoping to maybe catch hold of whoever it was that was behind him, hoping that a simple reassuring touch would ease his thundering heart. He felt a hand take his and he glanced back only long enough to note that it was Ellis. For some reason, Nick was satisfied with that, but he didn't take the time to examine the reasons behind it.

When they broke through the sugar cane Nick almost lost his footing, surprised that it had ended. Hands still clasped together, the two turned back towards the field. There was no signs of their companions. The rain didn't help and when Ellis called out for them it was drowned out by the thunder. Shit… They all knew where they were going though, right? Standing out here in the open wasn't helping anyone.

Nick turned to the southerner and moved close only so he could yell into the others ear, "Come on, let's get inside. Maybe they're already there." Ellis nodded his agreement, glancing painfully one last time towards the field and sent a little prayer for Rochelle and Coach. They'd be all right. They had to be.

Nick neglected to let go of Ellis'hand, and since the other didn't seem to mind or notice, he just continued to hold on to it as he tugged the other inside of what looked to be a beat up cafe or shitty gas station… Either way, there had better be some god damn fuel here or Nick was sure he was going to run screaming back into that sugar cane field, guns blazing in fury.

They stumbled inside, wet and gasping for air. The blood on Nicks suit had faded into a flowery pink and it may have looked pretty had it been under any other circumstance. The two limped their way to a backroom. It seemed like somewhere safe to hide.

"Jesus, there you two are!" Rochelle breathed, throwing open the door. "We were getting ready to come look for you."

For the first time since he had grabbed Ellis hand, he realized he was still holding it. He quickly let go of it as though he had been holding a live wire and without saying a word moved inside. Ellis followed and then helped Rochelle pin a table against the door.

"Is there gas here?" Nick asked flatly. He looked expectantly to Coach who was sitting in the corner, sweat and rain still beading on his bald head.

Coach nodded, grinning. "Rochelle and I about tripped over the damn things trying to get inside…" He shook his head, still unable to hide his joy, "There's an angel looking over us, my friends. A real angel."

Nick scoffed loudly and threw himself down into the opposite corner, pulling off the assault rifle and anything else that jabbed and prodded him painfully when he sat. A guardian angel huh? Some fucking angel.

Thunder shattered the outside world and stole their hearing. The faint buzz made Nick's head feel fuzzy and he squinted out at the other three. They were alive, that was for sure. But they'd have to turn around and go back the same way they had come. If they were lucky, they'd die painlessly, maybe even unknowingly. Every time they left a safe room, it always seemed like it took longer to find another. They weren't going to last much longer.

Personally, Nick hoped he'd die a quick, painless-without-even-realizing-it sort of death. Just like the pull of a trigger and a bullet through the head.

Nick let out a shaking breath and rested his head against the wall, staring at the peeled paint. As his adrenaline began to wear down he was beginning to feel all the bumps, scraps and bruises he had received—especially the fresh ones. His left arm pulsated with pain and he was too exhausted to even look at it. Shit… knowing his luck he'd lose it to—what was it? Gangrene? Yeah, that sounds about right. His luck was shit as of late.

Ellis plopped down beside him and Nick started, looking sharply to him. The kid offered him a lopsided smile and adjusted his hat. "I don't think we're gonna be able to go anywhere tonight. The rain outsides pretty bad, so we should probably try to wait it out 'til mornin'."

"Fine, but do you have to sit so close?" Nick snarled. Ellis blinked, mouth twitching into a frown and he glanced about. Nick did too… Well… In Ellis' defense, the place was pretty damn small. Ellis shuffled to move but Nick quickly grabbed the others shoulder. "Sorry, it's fine. Just no god damn Keith stories. All right?"

Ellis' expression softened a little and he tried to smile, "Yeah, sure. No Keith stories."

The silence filled the air again. That uncomfortable silence that always seemed to follow after one of their nauseating escapades leading to one of these dreadful rooms. It was that maddening silence. The kind that let the mind wander and mull over things.

The kind of silence that made you wish you were dead.

* * *

**A/N: EDIT: Working on fixing all the errors and Ellis' accent.**

Ellis is fun to write with. I'll be honest. I think he's the kind of character that everyone wishes they'd have come up with as their own. He makes me smile. Although, his southern twang is really hard to get right. (Which reminds me, the other night, I was serving a bar full of southern accents and overalls. SERIOUSLY, I had to go into the back and just laugh hysterically. Gawd, those accents are pure gold... It was made only more funny by the fact that I live way north, so it was completely inappropriate attire and accents for this area)

Anyways... I was too lazy to bring them all the way through the 2nd part of Hard Rain, I think this particular area is, and so I just skipped to the good part. So... as this story progresses, it will go through the rest of Hard Rain here, the Parish and... not sure how it'll end yet. Can't decide if I should be a dickhead about it, or make it a sappy ending. I guess it'll depend on how it continues to develop.

Sorry if this is a lot different then the last chapter. I think I'd die of a heartattack if I had to keep up with Nick's constant state of anxiety and dread. It's like a roller coaster, my friends. It'll come back tenfold soon.

Thank you so much on all the kind words too. I really appreciate it.

Them 4 belong to Valve.


	3. Chapter 3

Nick awoke with start of adrenaline and he wasn't really sure what had triggered it. He sat stiffly, breathing deep breaths through his mouth and trying hard to pinpoint exactly what had. Outside the raspy chokes of meandering Infected became the obvious suspect… However…

Passed out, shamelessly, was Ellis. Still by his side—well, more so draped against Nick with his head on his shoulder comfortably, snoring. Nick studied the others face for a moment and debated whether he should shove him aside. After relishing the different sorts of possible outcomes and disappointed and hurt-filled looks the hick would probably give him, Nick decided that those looks would be short-lived. He'd rather just keep the kid quiet. Let him sleep. He seemed peaceful… Content.

Nick tilted his head slightly to look at Ellis' face a little more clearly. Well… wasn't that just sweet. The little guy could just close his eyes and be totally unaffected by the last few months of horrors— almost like they had all just been on some big ass hike cross country and—zombies? What zombies? Nah, we're just hiking, man. You know? We got one of them maps and a big ol' walking stick and our backpacks. Yeah, man, it's just for fun. You know?

Nick let out a sigh and reached over with one hand to touch the Ellis' sleeping face, admiring the youthful optimism there. It would be nice, he had to admit, to have the strength and brightness Ellis had. To just be able to shake off the bad with a goofy grin and a good ol' story about your buddy. Yeah… that'd be nice.

Nick sighed again, eyes closing as his hand slipped away back into his own lap. At least one of them would get out of this mentally unscathed.

* * *

Nick awoke again, this time from Rochelle shaking him gently. The conman blinked several times, reaching up to rub his eyes. God he felt like shit. Like he hadn't gotten a damn wink of sleep. Like someone had shoved needles into his eyes and a razor down his arm. He glanced once quickly to Ellis and away, but then back again as he noticed that the supposedly sleeping angel from before had drooled all over him.

"God damn it, Ellis!" Nick spat, shrugging his shoulder and consequently forcing Ellis awake. "Like the god damn Boomer bile and Spitter shit isn't bad enough." Ellis looked to the other with a sleepy what'd-I-do look and Nick had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. God damn kid. Nick reached over to grab Ellis' hat from his sleepy fingers and pulled it roughly onto his head. "Get up. Time to go."

Ellis pushed the brim of the hat out of his eyes, still blinking and yawning, "Okay," he replied simply. Then, slowly, as if just noticing it, he reached up to brush the drool from his chin. He became suddenly very aware of what Nick had been referring to.

Ellis flushed and quickly began to spill out a nonsense apology, "S-Sorry, Nick… Didn't mean to r-ruin your… your…" But he couldn't quite make the apology sincere. He was beginning to laugh. "Hahaha! Didn't mean to—" he gasped for a breath in between his boyish laughter, "ruin your nice white suit, Nick. Man, that thing won't ever get clean. Whatcha worried 'bout?"

Again, Nick had to fight the urge to smile down at the hick and gave him a stiff nudge in the leg with his hard shoe. "Get up already. And you're apologizing for drooling all over me. That's disgusting."

Ellis scrambled to his feet, little giggles still escaping even as Coach passed everyone a little junk food to snack on. The four munched in near silence, Ellis still giggling quietly in the corner. However, the sudden lurch of blood soaked arm through a growing crack in the barricade caused them all to jump. It somberly reminded them that it was no time to laugh.

They quickly finished their poor excuse for a meal and began to strap back on weapons, first aid and the damned diesel that their practically suicidal mission had called for. Nick swore that if Virgil failed to meet them, or was worse, dead, he was going to kill whoever the hell had suggested to go get the damn gas.

"Are we ready then?" Rochelle asked. She didn't expect an answer, and so when no one bothered to reply she moved to pull the barricade down. Being closest, Nick helped her.

God damn. Here we go.

Ellis kicked the door opened, sending three Infected flying back. The mechanic stepped around the door, barrel leading as he shot out a few bursts of fire that tore them to pieces. They laid still and did not move again.

The four gathered themselves and began to make their way back outside. And damn it all to hell, it was pouring—still. So much for waiting it out. Thunder and lightening more terrible than anything Nick had ever witnessed screamed and bellowed. Rain soaked them to the bone in a manner of seconds. Yeah… He was still in the nightmare.

"We'll have to go back through the sugar cane field," Coach said. "Stick close, the weather won't be helping."

Rochelle reached out to place her hand on Coach's back and then held her hand out for Ellis. Ellis took her hand. The mechanic paused then, turned to look at Nick and then offered not only his hand but a curiously shy smile as well. Nick blinked once before taking his hand. The four trudged deep into the sugar cane field, almost lost, almost found, but together.

Nick wasn't sure why, but Ellis was squeezing his hand in an almost death-like grip. Maybe the kid was scared. With stupid green stalks slapping you in the face, thunder above, rain in your eyes and god knows what's out there creeping about, Nick had to admit, he was a little scared too. He squeezed the others hand reassuringly. Ellis' grip seemed to relax a little, but continued to stay firm.

"Here's the elevator again, guys! Let's go!" Coach called. Although the distance they had traveled had been quite a feat, it almost seemed not long enough. That was strange. Nick felt his hand tingling oddly after he released Ellis'.

"Hold on, let me check this shack," the conman said, ducking into it. Ellis stood nervously outside, gripping his rifle tightly with both hands as he kept a worried watch.

"What are you doing?" he finally whispered curiously.

"Grabbing something. Here." Nick tossed the mechanic a pipe bomb. "Homemade is always the best." Ellis gave him an odd look before hooking it onto the makeshift loop he had made specifically for Molotov's or pipe bombs. Hell they had all done it. There was no use shoving them in places they couldn't reach easily or burdening themselves with too many. One was all you needed—and with all of them caring one, four was plenty.

Nick moved to grab another pipe bomb but paused, eyes falling to the Molotov laying sideways, half of the alcohol missing. Nick patted at his pocket. Yeah, his lighter was still there. Although he couldn't even recall the last time he had had a smoke.

"Nick, hurry it up already man," Ellis said quietly, glancing about nervously.

The conman hesitated a moment longer, reaching for the Molotov and hooking it onto his belt. The two joined Coach and Rochelle in the elevator.

"What were you doing?" Rochelle asked, unable to hide her annoyance. She bashed the up button, face sour. The elevator made another annoying moan as the neglected gears whined and began lifting them upward.

"Ah, thought I'd take a catnap. All that hand holding really got me tired," Nick replied flatly.

She gave him a venomous look. "At least you're back to normal," she snapped back.

Before he could reply the elevator doors opened. A sea of screaming faces met them. In the distance a flash of lightening whitened the sky while around them the sound of gunfire erupted and each flash that lit up the room had a strangely beautiful effect. Infected crumpled to the ground, trying to claw over each other, but soon the rush was gone. They lay still. But that, God forbid, wasn't the end of it.

Before Nick had one foot out of the elevator he could feel the ground shake. He had felt that before. Had felt this sudden terror in his chest before. He knew what was coming, but even so the sudden behemoth creature crashing towards him surprised him.

"Holy shit, guys! We've got a Tank!" The words had barely escaped his lips when the monstrous thing swung one meaty arm at him. It caught him in the chest and sent him flying backwards in an ungraceful flail. God, he was lucky he could still breathe. Nick struggled to his feet, grabbing for the Molotov at his hip and the lighter in his pocket. Jesus, it seemed like too much of a hassle but the thought was short lived. He lit the alcohol-drenched rag and then threw it hard.

His aim was true and the monstrous Infected erupted into hot flames. It let out a terrifying bellow and charged forward, skin melting away, flesh bubbling and hissing. It screamed—maybe in pain, maybe in rage. It was all the same.

Nick back-peddled quick, trying to jerk his weapon strap out of the way, but the god damn thing had caught under his gun holster. Shit. Shit. Shit. He was going to get smothered to death by a flaming zombie. Well, fuck. That certainly didn't seem like the quick way to go.

The Tank's arm came whipping about and Nick threw himself to the ground, narrowly missed by the flaming flesh. He could hear his companions screaming, could practically feel bullets zipping by him, but all he could do was think about crawling, scrambling out of reach of the creature as it thundered, thrashed and clawed after him.

God damn it. Not like this. Not like this. Please, not like this.

"Nick, Nick. Stop, you're okay. It's dead. It's dead now, Nick." Ellis grabbed onto the conman to keep him from crawling anymore. Nick was shaking, a new nasty gash pulsating blood from his forehead, but otherwise he seemed remarkably unhurt. But, Christ, did he look scared. Ellis couldn't recall ever seeing Nick looked so damned scared.

"R-Right… Right, I'm okay… I'm fine." Ellis helped him to his feet and the two regarded each other. Nick blinked, reaching up to press his fingers against his stomach and chest. It was tender, but nothing seemed broken. Jesus. Did being alive still make him lucky or unlucky? Fuck if he knew anymore.

"Here, let me…" Ellis moved to grab his first aid, but Nick shook his head and wiped his sleeve over his forehead. Most of the blood smeared awfully and Ellis cringed.

"Don't bother, I'm fine."

"But, Nick…"

"I said don't bother!" Christ, you'd think someone would take advantage of the thought of keeping their bandages for one more fucking minute. Nick reached down to unhook the assault rifles strap from under his holster and cursed colorfully under his breath. He readjusted it into his hands comfortably. "Let's go."

Coach shook his head slowly, offering a slight grin, "What made you grab the Molotov?"

Nick breathed out, indecorous. "Intuition, I guess." Coach laughed at this and Nick shot him an annoyed glare.

Most of the rest of their trip back was uneventful, but fuck, was it raining hard. More than once Nick found himself practically pressed up against one of his companions just so he could keep tabs on them. Sight became useless, touch became essential. More than once he found himself pressed up against Ellis' back, practically breathing down his neck and each time Ellis had practically smothered him back with touch—almost as if he were afraid he'd suddenly disappear in a cloud of misty rain. Oddly, Ellis was the only one to have ever really responded so much to his closeness.

They slipped their way up and over broken down and rusting parts of the Sugar Mill Factory. Although at the time it had seemed a good idea to cross on it instead of mucking about through the mud and water below, Nick was starting to realize if they fell from there it was a long fall to Hell. Shit, it may not even kill. It'd probably just snap your back in two and leave you there mewling like a little bitch as zombies tore you to pieces. Jesus… what a terrible thought.

"This way, I think I found that building we first went through." Nick slid off the pipe they had been cautiously moving across and turned to help Rochelle down. Coach waved away his hand and slid down noisily, continuing into the building, Rochelle close at his side. Ellis came next, walking like some little kid pretending to be an airplane, arms outstretched, one foot delicately being placed in front of the other, a stupid grin on his face.

He didn't know why, but Nick rose both his hands up for the other and Ellis took them, shifted forward and then leaped right into his chest. Nick grunted at the impact and fell back against the wall, somehow managing to not drop the other who was now crushed up against him. Ellis laughed.

"Good catch, Nick."

"Fuck, kid, you're going to break my back if you do that again." Yet for a moment, he didn't let go. He just continued to keep the other crushed up against him. He enjoyed the fact that Ellis was still clinging to him, how they were drenched to the bone, practically breathing each others breaths, faces only inches apart—like two lovers in some cheesy romance movie. Wait, what? This was Ellis.

Nick quickly released the other and Ellis fell the last few inches onto his feet. Nick's hands were raised out wide, almost as if he were afraid to touch the mechanic. For a moment their eyes bore into each other. Nick's were hard, maybe defensive, while Ellis seemed to stare back with a sort of kind naivety. Finally, Ellis let go and stepped back.

"Uh, sorry… I didn't mean… to make you uncomfortable or somethin'."

Nick waved his hand in the air in non-comment and continued after the others.

"Shh, there's a Witch down there," Rochelle said, pointing. "Right in front of the door. We'll have to be quick and quiet. Got it, Ellis?"

"Huh? Wha'? Yeah, okay."

Nick went first, scooting past the wailing, whining little bitch with ease. Although he sloshed through the ankle deep water loudly, she seemed undisturbed, unbeknownst. Just crying away like her life was some big fucking drama that everyone was interested in.

Next came Rochelle, who although nimble, became caught up on a straggling zombie that practically jumped on her, tearing and biting. Rochelle grabbed the Infected around the head and drug it with her as she stumbled forward. The Witch let out an annoyed huff, slowly rising to her feet, throaty whines rising in her throat.

Shit.

Maybe it was just chivalrous of him, or perhaps he hadn't been paying attention, but Ellis came sprinting out next, waving his arms and yelling. That was all it took.

The Witch screamed, a blood curdling scream that pierced the eardrums, and in an instant was on the mechanic, clawed hands leading. One swipe knocked him off his feet, another sent his gun flying and a third—never fell. Nick didn't know what overtook him, but he rushed at that snarling bitch. Out came the fire axe he had been carrying on him since that hotel a lifetime ago. One undercut of the axe sunk into the Witch's stomach and she screamed. He jerked it out and swung it again. It hacked off her left leg and she toppled over, hands reaching for him, clawing, eyes enraged, teeth slick with coagulating blood. Down came the axe again, splitting her skull apart. She shuddered in a death throe and then collapsed over to lay still.

"Shit, Ellis…" Nick threw the axe down, falling in the water beside the other and scrambled to lift him out of it. Ellis blinked, almost unbelievingly as he reached down to take handfuls of his own blood and bring it back towards his body as if that simple gesture would make everything better. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. "You're fine, Ellis, you're fine. Don't look at it."

Bandages came flying out and three pairs of hands were pressing down, staunching blood and wrapping the wounds as tightly as they possibly could. Ellis had stopped trying to help at one point and had simply gone limp, the only indication he was alive was his shallow breaths and occasional slow blink.

Nick and Coach carried the wounded mechanic back to the safe room as Rochelle cleared the way for them. With the door locked and barricaded, they had only each other. Only each other and silence. God, there was always the silence.

Standing over Ellis, who was pale now, unmoving and uncannily silent, Nick wasn't entirely confident if their party of four wouldn't soon become three.

* * *

A/N:

So I actually threw on a game of realism just to give me a few ideas on what I should write for the rest of this campaign just so I kind of remember the layout. So... Yeah, that's where all the little mishaps came in. And I have no idea what in the hell made me switch from a pipe bomb to a molotov. There's NEVER a tank at the top of that elevator for me. And holy shit did it startle the hell out of me. Oh, and at the end of that particular level Ellis DID startle the witch, but being realism he DIED. But I had a defib and just sort of rolled my eyes and brought him back and was like 'ugh, you just ruined my story... or did you!" Waha... so. Yeah... Ellis is a little 'tarded on my game.

I'm actually getting into this story and enjoying writing it. Right now I'm just sort of trying to crank out the chapters while I'm in the mood to do it, so hopefully the quality is staying up. =/


	4. Chapter 4

_Nick's hand reached out for me, blindly, desperately, an' I reached back. I don' know why… He probably ha'n't been lookin' for me—but if he had been, I'm glad he was. Our hands locked together, like familiar lovers; perfectly fit for each other. It was in tha' instant tha' I suddenly felt safe. Like nothin' in the world could hurt me. Then Nick glanced back, his startlin' green eyes findin' mine for only a moment, but enough of a moment ta send my heart beatin' furiously in my chest with—excitement—was… was tha' the right word? Maybe not… Nick smiled, slightly, almost as if ta say, "Thanks for being there, Overalls" an' I smiled back too._

_I felt safe. Safeness like I ain't never felt before—even 'fore the infection. An' it's confusin'. I know tha' there are things out there, things lurkin' 'bout, searchin' for us, ready ta devour us whole—or maybe even piece by piece. I can feel the rain an' the hail poundin' down on me, leavin' bruises an' tendering my flesh. I can __**feel**__ the mud sloshin' through my shoes, feel it creeping up my pants an' weighing me down, I can feel the miserableness, I really can… _

_But, God… I feel so __**safe**__._

_Please, Nick. Please don' let go._

Ellis' eyes fluttered opened and he let in an intake of breath that racked his whole body painfully. Man, he felt like someone had sucker punched him in the gut, hard.

"Holy, shit, you're not dead," came Nick's rough voice—filled with something else. Relief? Yes, Ellis was sure that's what he heard. Ellis squeezed his eyes shut tight, his hand lifting, searching blindly for the conman. Nick took it and gave him a reassuring squeeze, "I can't believe you're alive, Ellis… Jesus. How do you feel?"

"Safe." It was the only word Ellis could think to choke out. He shifted slightly and it sent a shock of pain down his abdomen. Tears escaped the corners of his tightly closed eyes.

"Yeah, you're safe, now, Ellis," Nick reassured quietly, reaching out with his free hand to gently pat Ellis' shoulder. "Just be still. We're not sure how bad that Witch hurt you. We just bandaged you the best we could when it happened… Jesus, I still can't believe you're alive."

Nick released Ellis' hand and the mechanic let out a little whimper, turning his face towards Nick's voice, weakly, pathetically, grasping at the air. Nick frowned slightly and gently took the others hand again. Ellis relaxed, sighing contently.

Nick glanced over to where Rochelle and Coach were sleeping against the wall. It had been his turn to watch the mechanic. Ellis had been unconscious for almost a day now. They hadn't known what to do; sit and wait for Ellis to recover (or die), or try to move him in his delicate condition. Everyone had mutually decided Virgil could wait. They needed Ellis. They all did. Ellis was their glue.

Nick kept a vigilant watch over the mechanic, but Ellis had slipped back into a quiet slumber. His face seemed at perfect peace—like it always seemed to be when he slept—but his body showed signs that it wasn't nearly as resilient as his mind.

Ellis' shirt was stained red all about his belly and there was a ragged tear in the shirt. His arms were badly bruised and scraped and Nick was amazed that the kid had even been able to lift a weapon all this time. Yet, he seemed perfectly content. What a weird ass kid.

Nick shifted back, leaning against the wall, but careful to keep his hand still clasping the others. If that was all Ellis needed to stop fussing, then so be it. Nick couldn't exactly say he found it… cumbersome… More like… Nick searched for the word, chewing at his lip. Jesus, what was he feeling? The conman's mind, unable to cope with the implications his heart seemed to be hinting at, shifted against him. It always did.

Whatever he felt, it didn't matter. They'd never get out of this alive, would they? They'd all be dead by the end of the week. He was sure of it. They'd get back to the dock, find out that Virgil had Turned and they'd be left alone to fight horde after horde of Infected until they were slowly picked off, one by one.

Nick hoped he'd be first. Hoped to God that He'd be merciful and take him first. It wasn't because he was too scared to keep fighting—okay, maybe he was afraid he was going to die choking on his own blood as it pooled around him as the Infected shoved their disgusting fingers inside of him, tearing him apart as he watched, helpless to stop it—but he was more terrified than anything that he'd have to watch them die… Well… watch _him_ die.

Nick had sworn he felt something crack inside of him as he had held Ellis' bleeding body in his arms. Something inside of him had shattered watching the mechanic almost dumbfounded gestures to stifle his own bleeding body. Ellis' face hadn't been one of horror—but almost one of simple 'well, goolie gee, this don' look good'. Like Ellis thought he was indestructible. Like this was all one big game. Each time Ellis had reached down to swipe his fingers into that gushing stream of blood, Nicks heart had broke a little more. The water around them had began to stain red, leaving little licks of cloudy red streaming away… and Nick had cried.

Nick had been sure he had been watching Ellis die. Watching the kid keep this strangely indifferent attitude of invincibility even as he bled to death there right in front of all of them.

Yet, here the kid was, smiling as he slept, hand in his, still alive. Shit, maybe the kid _was_ indestructible. Nick smiled slightly at first, but his demons quickly unsheathed their claws and stabbed painfully into his mind.

Sure, you all had escaped death this time, but now you're even more hurt. Even more vulnerable.

Their arms were growing heavier with each day, they had bruises on top of bruises, cuts on top of cuts. Nick was always hungry, always tired, always ready to just fling down his weapons, throw out his arms and scream his surrender at the Heavens. God, he was ready for it. He was ready to die.

He was sick of creeping through this shitty southern state, heart always, always, racing in his ear. He hated the way he would always press himself up against a wall to look around it and make sure nothing too terrible waited on the other side. He hated how he would cower behind something to try and avoid a monstrous Tank lumbering about. He hated having to sneak past those sobbing little Witches, praying to a God he didn't believe in that she'd not notice him. He hated the sound of a growling Hunter somewhere above, knowing that it could pounce on any of them out of the darkness. He hated it. He hated not knowing _when_ he was going to die, not _if_. He hated it. Hated it, hated it, hated it.

"Nick…"

Nick jerked forward, eyes opened instantly as he looked around, then down. It was Ellis. The mechanic shifted again, "Nick…"

Nick blinked slowly, leaning forward. "I'm right here, Ellis…"

"Cold…"

Nick blinked again, before letting go of the other only long enough to shrug off his dirty and bloodied jacket. "Sorry, Overalls, but that's all I have," Nick voiced tenderly as he draped it over the other. Ellis let out a little whimper, hand reaching out to grab at him again. Nick smiled slightly. "All right, all right. I guess I can keep you warm."

It took him a moment to figure out how to lay close to the other without disturbing his wounds too badly, but Ellis seemed to not notice the pain anymore because he shifted right against him, face nuzzling into the conman's chest. At first, Nick didn't know how to respond and simply laid there in a blinking stupor. Then he relaxed, let out a sigh, and gently rested his arm around the other.

"Thanks, Nick…" If there were ever a safe room before, it paled in comparison to the security Ellis felt now.

Nick nodded slightly, staring up at the ceiling. As he laid there, in complete silence, he realized for the first time that he didn't feel alone.

* * *

"Well, aren't you two just cute," Rochelle laughed. Nick blinked awake and beside him he felt Ellis stirring. For some reason, Nick could only smirk slightly. "Ellis, sweetie, how are you feeling?"

Ellis awoke to find his face pressed into Nick's neck and he took a moment to inhale slowly and enjoy every second of it. Then, reluctantly, he rolled onto his back, blinking up at the ceiling as he reached down to pat at his abdomen.

"It don' really hurt tha' bad, ta be honest." And it didn't. For some strange reason, he felt almost perfect. Like lying beside Nick had suddenly healed his wounds. Not even his bumps and bruises stung. Well, awesome! Ellis bolted upward, grinning widely, but his grin soon became a grimace. Well, okay, maybe he didn't feel _that_ great.

"Ellis! Jesus!" Nick snapped from beside the mechanic, sitting up too. "You were just about gutted out the other night. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Ellis flushed, looking down at the bandages. He fingered them experimentally. "I guess tha' di'n' feel so good."

"You're god damn right it didn't. Jesus, use your head." Nick made an annoyed noise before stepping over Ellis, "Here get up against that wall so we can change your bandages and see how bad you are."

"O-Okay." Ellis scooted—with Nick's help—against the wall and then hiked up his shirt. Together, Rochelle and Nick began to poke and prod at him, unpeeling crusty and sticky bandages away. Ellis bit at his lip, tears stinging his eyes. "Man, it felt fine, whatcha have ta go an' poke at it for?"

"Because, sweetheart," Rochelle cooed in that motherly voice she always seemed to use on him, "underneath all of these bandages is a pool of nastiness that needs to be cleaned up so you don't get an infection."

It was a little comical watching Nick and Rochelle pulling away blood and dirt stained bandages and tossing them over their shoulders, both looking apprehensive as hell. Finally, underneath it all, exposed for them all to see, was a large gash, little beads of blood now showing after the scabs were torn away with the bandages. The good thing was it didn't seem as serious as they had all thought.

Nick let out a breath of relief and beside him Rochelle began to unpack bandages and sterilizing wipes. "Here, clean the wound while I get some bandages ready." She shoveled a handful of little sterilization wipes into Nick's hand and he gave her annoyed look, dropping most of them into Ellis lap.

"Hold these, Overalls." Ellis fumbled with them and he realized Nick probably had done this to distract him from the stinging burn of the antiseptic. Ellis hissed a little as Nick pressed the little wet cloth to his wound. Nick's face softened, "Sorry, just bare with me."

Nick was surprisingly tender as he cleaned the rest of the wound. His eyes were intensely focused but his calloused hands were gentle. Occasionally his rough knuckles would touch Ellis' skin and Ellis couldn't help but feel a shudder of anticipation. He tried to hide it, but Nick started giving him curious glances and Ellis realized he wasn't as subtle as he had hoped. Ellis forced his eyes shut and sat with a deepening flush spreading on his cheeks.

Before long, there was a pile of used antiseptic wipes and little empty packets scattered around. Rochelle nudged the conman, "I think it's about as clean as it's going to get, Nick."

Nick coughed, fingers lingering over the mechanic's skin for a moment before he sat back and allowed Rochelle to begin to wrap the wound. She did it expertly, almost as though she had done it a million times—well, damn it certainly felt like it was getting up there. To be honest, Rochelle probably had the most tenderness and comforting motherly touch when she was wrapping others wounds, but she seemed exceptionally gentler with Ellis. Nick felt a little jealous—not of him. But of her. He wished he was the one bandaging Ellis back to health. Nick blinked once at himself in surprise at the thought.

He reached over to tug his jacket away from Ellis. The mechanic gave him a sheepish look as he did and Nick eyed him as he pulled it back onto its rightful place on his body.

"Well, Ellis. I think that'll have to do it. Can you stand? How bad does it hurt?" Rochelle stepped back, offering her hands to Ellis and helped the southerner to his feet. Ellis winced a little, though he managed to smile after righting himself.

"I thin' I can manage, thanks, Rochelle…" He nodded his head down, one hand rubbing through his locks, "Thanks, Nick… An'—um… an' Coach." Ellis glanced to the hefty former football player, "I don' quite 'member much, but thanks for not leavin' me guys."

Nick scoffed, "Like we could."

Ellis tilted his head at him, smiling a little.

"Well," Coach rumbled, "if you're good to go, boy, suit up. We've got some zombies to kill."

* * *

Holy shit, it was _still_ raining. Hard. Like a mother fucking—fucker. Jesus! Any indication that they had been able to wring out the rain had disappeared the second they had thrown open the door. It was like walking into a typhoon. A big ass, pissed off, ready-to-tear-you-apart typhoon.

Every few seconds, practically like clockwork, a huge streak of lightening would light up the sky and give them a few precious moments to reorientate themselves. They had become lost more than once. After trying to avoid particularly deep flooding, they had finally given up going around. It was only making them more confused and they couldn't afford to get lost. Even with the weather, the Infected seemed unbothered by it. They still came at them in waves of blood-thirsty vengeance.

The four stuck close, and maybe unconsciously, they surrounded Ellis who was having a hard time keeping up. Every time his hand faltered and he lurched forward trying to keep his breath, someone—usually Nick—was there to protect him. Each time Ellis was sure his sides were burning too much for him to continue, the conman would slip his arm underneath his and whisper words of encouragement as he tugged him along. God, and every time Ellis couldn't help but grin like an idiot. It felt strangely good having the conman fussing so much over him.

"Hey, it's the playground we saw on the way there!" Nick exclaimed, pointing at it, "Come on, we're almost there!"

"Hey, can I go down on the slide?" Ellis asked—and he was half serious. I mean, he couldn't really remember the last time he'd been down a slide—well, except for those slides back at Whispering Oaks. He hadn't been able to help himself back there. As the other three had taken the stairs, Ellis had slid down the hilly ride, arms in the air, grinning and hollering like a little kid the whole way down.

"Ellis, save it for later," Coach called, shaking his head at him, although he was grinning.

Ellis grinned back, "Okay, okay…"

As they ran, their hearts thundered with excitement as a nearby house came into a view. Then someone—no one was really quite sure—it was pretty damn hard to see with all the rain after all— must have accidently let a few bullets stray into a parked car. It may have not been so bad had it not been alarmed.

They all froze as the siren blared, like some little kid telling their mother that their sibling was trying to sneak out of the house. Around them the shrieks and groans of Infected began to close it.

"Ho-lee shit," Ellis breathed, backing away from the car as he glanced about hurriedly.

Rochelle grabbed at him, "Run, Ellis." He didn't need to be told twice.

The four of them hurtled themselves towards the house, shooting into the mist behind them, hoping that they'd at least hit something. As Ellis glanced back, a streak of lightening lit up the horizon—and he could see that the Infected were plentiful still and, presumably, still riddled with an overpowering urge to eat their faces.

Coach grabbed the door, jerked it opened and turned back to the others, "GET INSIDE, NOW!"

Nick came next, practically throwing himself inside while behind him Rochelle continued to tug along Ellis. She shoved the mechanic inside, toppling over into the wall, gasping for air.

"Close the door, Coach!" Nick cried, jumping forward. Coach grunted at him, pulling at the door. But God, the water was so deep. There was too much water. Nick grabbed hold of the door along side Coach and with all their strength they pulled it back.

It was barely a fraction of a second after the door was shut safely that the Infected had reached them. They pounded against the door, throwing themselves like make-shift battering rams, screaming and clawing at it. Coach and Nick stumbled back, heaving breaths shuddering through them as they watched the vigorous attempts the Infected made to tear down the door.

"Bar it up," Coach said somberly. "Help me bar it up."

Nick nodded wordlessly and began to search for random items to pile before the door. Rochelle soon joined the search, but Ellis had collapsed back against a wall, gasping raggedly for breath. He was smiling though, and so no one bothered to check on him. Not at least, until the door was safely barricaded.

"Shit, Overalls, are you all right?" Nick asked, standing over the other.

Ellis nodded, "Yeah, man. I'm good. Jus' gatta catch my breath, ya know?" He pounded his fist against his chest, "Jus' gatta catch my breath…"

Nick studied the other. It seemed those wounds really had been pretty taxing. Usually Ellis was the first to bounce to his feet and begin searching their new safe room for supplies. He hadn't moved since they arrived and the way he was still breathing, cringing in between breaths, showed that he still was far from recovery.

"Three beds and four people," Rochelle said, coming out of one of the rooms, one hand rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "Sorry, boys, but I'm going to call the Ladies card." She smiled, "We're almost there so I suggest getting some sleep now. All right? I'll take this room." She offered another winning smile before backing into the middle room and closing the door.

Coach grunted, "Well, I'm taking this room." He walked to the far right, pushed opened the door and then glanced back at the other two men. He about laughed, "Be a tight fit, my friends." Nick gave him an uncomfortable look and Coach laughed heartily as he moved inside. It became clear that Coach had no interest in sharing as the door clicked shut.

Nick sighed, looking down to Ellis who was breathing more normally now. "All right, Overalls. Looks like it's you and me." Ellis, oddly did not meet his eyes, and instead sat there silently, his fingers working together nervously. Nick offered him a hand, "Well, let's go."

Ellis took the offered hand and together the two went to explore their room. It was a decent size, with a decent bed. It would do. Nick sat at the edge of the bed and began unlacing his once-upon-a-time expensive shoes. Ellis sat at the other side, doing the same. The mechanic's face was burning with embarrassment and he was thankful it was ungodly dark and their eyes hadn't quite adjusted yet. Otherwise, he was sure Nick would think he were queer or something. Then again…

Nick let out a huff as he fell onto the bed, jacket and dress shirt abandoned—neatly folded—on a nearby dresser. He crawled underneath the covers. This was the first time they had been in a bed since—well, since… Ah, hell, it was too hard to remember that far back.

Ellis wormed underneath the covers soon after and the two laid in silence, Nick with his back to the other, Ellis laying on his back, arms folded over the top of the covers.

"Hey Nick?"

"Please don't tell me you have a Keith story for this," came the muffled reply.

Ellis grinned slightly, "Nah, I need ta ask ya somethin'." His smile quickly fell and he reached up to worry his lips with his hand. "Nick… do ya still wan' ta die?"

Silence. It was so silent that Ellis almost thought that Nick had fallen asleep, but finally Nick sighed. "Ellis…"

"Really, man. I need ta know."

"We're in the middle of a god damn zombie apocalypse, Ellis. Every day we're fighting for our lives. Some days we get through with only a bruise or two, other days we're laying in the streets bleeding our guts out." Nick let out an annoyed noise, "I don't enjoy wondering when my time is going to be."

"…Tha' di'n' answer my question, Nick…"

Nick rolled over so that he faced the other, "What the fuck do you think is waiting for us if we get out of this alive, Ellis? Huh? Do you think we're just going to stroll into fucking Happy Land where they'll give us a big handshake and a fucking hot shower, good meal and warm bed to sleep in? Is that what you think?"

Ellis swallowed, still staring at the ceiling, but uncomfortably aware of how Nick was staring daggers at him. "I don' know wha' we'll find, Nick. But tha' sure does sound nice."

Nick choked out a laugh. "Yeah? Does it? Well, fuck, Ellis. I don't think like you do. I _know_ that nothing will ever be the same again. Everyone I knew is probably dead. Everything I knew is useless now. Everything I've spent my whole life building up for myself means _nothing_ now. So yeah, Ellis. Yeah, I still want to die. And if I can do it on my own terms then that's how it's going to be. I'm sick of this fucking infection. I'm sick of fighting for my life when I know that there's nothing waiting for me on the other side."

Ellis was silent for a long time, mouth pressed into a thin line, tears of frustration in his eyes. "My Ma always told me tha' anyon' tha' killed themselves was a fool. Tha' they di'n't bother ta look aroun' an' see everythin' tha' they had. She told me people tha' killed themselves were cowards."

Nick snorted, rolling onto his back and running his hands over his face. "You listen to everything your Mother tells you, Ellis?"

"O' course," came the quick reply.

Nick let out a short laugh. "Well, Ellis. Maybe your mother's right. Maybe I am a coward, too afraid to change the man I am."

Ellis finally looked to Nick, "Ya don' look like a coward ta me, Nick."

It was Nick's time to be silent. He sat there fuming for a moment, wanting to punch the stupid hick in the face. Jesus, who the fuck did he think he was? Don't worry, just listen to my Mama and you'll be fucking set! Bullshit. Bull-fucking-shit.

"Nick?"

"What?" Nick snapped, glaring at him, "_What,_ Ellis? What the hell do you possibly have to say now?" He regretted saying it. He regretted _how_ he said it. Ellis' eyes filled with tears.

"Please don' die, Nick."

Nick let out a stunned breath that had caught in his throat as he watched Ellis slowly crumbling beside him. The mechanics face twisted with emotion and he tried to hide it with his shaking hands. Trying to shove his fingers into the corners of his eyes to keep the tears from coming. He began to sob. Terrible sobs that shook his body, ragged sobs that sounded painfully. The little champion who had always shook off the worst of the worst, who was always annoyingly optimistic, always making the rest of them bite their cheeks to keep from ginning, was crying.

"E-Ellis…" Nick started, unsure how to continue. He just blinked, widely, openly astonished. Jesus, Ellis was crying hard. Ellis shook his head, slowly turning away, curling onto his side and sobbing harder. "Ellis… Hey… Hey, I'm sorry…" Nick's chest tightened painfully as he felt the others tremors when he gently rested his hand on his shoulder. "Come on, Ellis…"

"No, Nick. It ain't fair. It ain't fair tha' we came all this way together… tha' I've been watchin' your back all this time, makin' sure ya were gonna be okay at the end of the day only ta have ya wan' ta go an' kill yerself. Tha' ain't fair, man. I-I've always watched out for ya, ya know? I always made sure ya were gonna be okay… But man, I can't even do tha' right. It ain't fair.. I don' wan' ya ta want ta die. I wan' ya ta live. For me… I wan' you to be there for me like ya were today. I wan' ya there ta grab my hand when I'm scared, to help me up when I feel like I can't go no further. I wan' ya there. I _need_ ya there, Nick."

"All right, Ellis, okay," Nick was whispering gently the entire time, trying to coax the other away from his noisy crying. It was hard to understand anything Ellis was saying anyways with his accent and the choking sobs weren't helping. God, Nick felt awful. He felt like the biggest asshole in the world and for once he wasn't proud of it. "I'm sorry, Ellis, all right… I'm sorry."

It took Ellis a long time to stop crying and Nick was relieved when he had. The mechanic rolled over to face him and Nick felt his heart wrench with guilt at that pink, tear-stained face. God… Ellis was crying because of him.

"Promise me ya won' do it, Nick. Promise me you'll be there." Ellis hand shook as it came up to touch the side of Nick's face, stroking at the stubbles, feeling the rough texture under his fingertips. "Please…"

"All right…" Nick finally agreed softly, "All right, Ellis. For you… Just… don't cry anymore."

"Yeah… Yeah, okay…" Ellis sniffed loudly, burying the side of his face into the pillow. He let out a nervous chuckle, "Sorry…"

Nick breathed out and eased himself back into the bed. He didn't comment as Ellis scooted close to him and buried his face against him. Instead he just rested his head against Ellis' oddly soft fluff of hair and closed his eyes.

Christ, who would have thought that Overalls would get so damn worked up? Over him?

Despite the fact that Nick _did_ feel pretty awful for making the kid cry, there was also this strangely warm feeling in his chest that he wasn't quite sure if it was making him want to cry or to laugh. And for the life of him, he didn't know why.

* * *

**A/N**: I love how my spellcheck goes insane whenever Ellis is talking. Ahem...anyways.

It took me all day to write this and I was interrupted about 234893 times so I'm not 100% sure if this runs smoothly. I hope it does and I hope it seems plausible. I'm realizing that this is slowly becoming a really big fic real quickly.

Thanks to everyone who's been reading. And thank you so much for the reviews, I really appreciate it.


	5. Chapter 5

It rained all night. Obnoxious rain that pelted the rooftop in an annoying not-quite-steady rhythm that dug under his nerves. It poked and prodded at his already slowly decaying mind. It beat above, keeping him awake, keeping him alert. And his mind tortured him.

Nick laid awake, chin resting on top of Ellis' head as he held the other against him. He listened to his own heart pounding in his ears. He laid there, feeling each of Ellis' breaths against his bare skin, aware of how warm the other was, aware of how good it felt to have him there… Aware of how it reminded him of someone long ago. God, was he aware of it.

He had lost her because he had been selfish. He had wooed her with sweet words and gestures, little things he knew women would fall all over themselves to have in a man. He was a conman after all. He knew how to get what he wanted. She had been his trophy to parade around, his little prize to gloat about… But at the end of the day, that was all he had treated her like—a trophy on a shelf.

It wasn't until she was gone that he realized he _had_ loved her, that she wasn't _just_ a trophy to him. He had loved coming home from a long night of gambling to find her sitting up waiting for him just to make sure he was unhurt. He had loved the way she laughed, the sparkle in her eyes, the way she smiled with her tongue pressed behind her teeth. The way she would hum along to her favorite songs on the radio, how she would always take his hands and dance to the music in her head. He had loved the way she had loved him.

He thought of her at first—but eventually his nostalgia had grown faint for her and his thoughts began to explore a different heartache. The heartache belonging to a certain blue-eyed, sweet-natured, optimistic farm boy. And it scared Nick. It scared him more than anything in the world. His heart pounded with terror.

At least with her, he had lost her from his own selfishness. Ellis though… he could lose to anything. To a sneaky Hunter pouncing from the mist, or a horde of Infected lured by the stench of Boomer bile—from a snarling Witch. God… he could lose the damn kid at any moment. How dare he even begin to think he was falling for him.

It was in that moment that Nick decided he would have to stop these thoughts, now. He would have to destroy any hope, any lingering feelings, any desire or lust. He'd have to crush it, stomp on it, tear it apart and bury it within the confines of his own shadowed heart. He'd have to push the kid to arms length and keep his devilish tongue from charming him any further.

But for now, Nick simply held Ellis, knowing he'd never be able to do it again.

* * *

Nick awoke first, probably from the freakishly loud rumble of thunder—or maybe because the ceiling had started leaking on his legs. Whichever. Nick carefully uncoiled his arms from Ellis, giving the mechanic one long final stare. Well… goodbye warm feelings. Goodbye little butterflies, goodbye sweet smiles, goodbye innocent handholding…

Nick leaned forward and placed a kiss on Ellis' forehead before quickly retreating out of the bed. He pulled on his clothes and entered the badly rain damaged kitchen.

He sat himself down at the table, feeling as though someone had slapped him senseless. His face hurt, his chest hurt, his body hurt. Everything hurt.

From the door they had entered last night he could still hear the moans of Infected, still trying to get in. The barricade would shake slightly as one particularly enthusiastic one would throw its body against the door only to bounce back fruitlessly. For a moment Nick pitied them. But being Nick the feeling quickly passed.

Fuck them. The fuckers had been trying to eat his brains the last few months. He could care less about who they were, who they could have been, or what they had once believed. Fuck them.

Nick looked over as Coach's door opened and the older man came ambling out, yawning loudly as he did. The big man stretched nosily. "And here I thought I was going to be the first one awake, again." Nick made no effort to reply and the former coach took the seat opposite of the conman. Coach regarded the other for a moment. "You look like shit, boy. Was sharing too damn difficult for you?" Coach began to chuckle, but Nick sent him a deadly glare and the noise caught in his rumbling chest.

There was a long silence as they glared across the table at each other. Finally Coach, not willing to pick a fight with one of the only people he knew to still be alive, got up and began to rummage through the cabinets. Nick did his best to ignore him, at least until Coach had managed to find undamaged coffee grounds and a working coffee pot. Nick's hard eyes watched the man fix a fresh pot. Christ, maybe Coach was good for something.

The big man beamed. "Ah, it sure has been awhile since we've had some good coffee, hasn't it?" It was obvious he was fishing for conversation. Nick, however, remained silent. Coach snorted. "I guess that means you're not interested."

"Whatever."

Piss poor mood; that's what they had always said he had. Ever since the beginning of this stupid ass 'adventure' he had been labeled the pessimist whiner. Well, whatever. He didn't care anymore. Just because he had promised the hick he wasn't going to blow his own brains out didn't mean he still wasn't going to die. There was no point in making friends with the doomed and the damned.

"Ohmygawd," Rochelle gasped, practically throwing open the door. Nick and Coach jumped, staring at her. "Is that _coffee_ I smell?" The woman floated into the room, sniffing at the air as though it were Heaven itself wafting about.

Nick sulked silently as the other two fixed themselves a cup of coffee, refusing to join in their idle chat. He huffed his thanks when Rochelle brought him a mug, but made no other effort to join their pointless chatter.

"So, Nick… You're looking more pissed off than usual," Rochelle commented lightly, smiling over the rim of her chipped coffee mug. Nick blinked slowly, eyes turning to give her a deadpan stare. She smiled awkwardly. "Um… okay. Did I miss something?"

"Nick's just mad that he had to spoon with another man," Coach said, laughing lightly.

The conman slammed his mug onto the table and it shattered in his hand, spilling hot coffee and glass over the table. With his jaw clenched, eyes furious, the man shot to his feet. The sudden motion threw back his chair and sent it scattering across the ground into the wall. Rochelle and Coach recoiled back, eyes wide, both obviously startled by the reaction. Nick hissed out a few incomprehensible words (probably curses) and then stormed over to their piles of weapons, picked up a sniper rifle and began to load it angrily.

No one moved. Coach and Rochelle risked glances to each other, but neither dared to speak. Hot coffee dripped silently off the corner of the table. Rain pounded on the roof above. Lightening lit up the windows every so often, illuminating the room in an eerie light. For a handful of minutes it was deathly silent. Until…

"Wha's with all the noise?" Ellis yawned from the doorway. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he padded out into the kitchen. He stopped slowly, glancing about and noticing the heavy stillness. "What's goin' on?" he asked seriously. He looked to his companions for answers, but no one seemed willing to say anything. "Um… okay… Is that coffee? Man, may I have some too?"

"S-Sure, sweetie. You can have as much as you want." Rochelle shot to her feet, thankful for the excuse to break the awkward silence. She nosily found the mechanic a cup and poured the rest of the pot into it. She was shaking slightly, but Ellis' attention was too diverted elsewhere to notice.

Ellis' eyes were locked on a certain green-eyed man who was hunched over on the other side of the room, his back turned to the others with a sniper rifle gripped tightly in his hands. He was staring at the obviously impenetrable barricade, as if expecting something was going to magically burst through at any moment.

Ellis moved to speak to the conman, but Rochelle grabbed his arm, shaking her head.

* * *

They stormed over the broken fence like a well-trained army platoon, taking out Infected in deadly bursts of fire. The water was thick, up to their mid-calf and movement was slow. The rain was still heavy. It seemed impossible Virgil could spot them in the whiteness.

"Hey!" Coach called, "Let's fire up that burger sign. Maybe Virgil will be able to see it out in the storm!"

_/Probably not,/_ Nick mused, but he did not speak. He had grown silent ever since his outburst. Nick figured the less he spoke, the less his heart would feel obligated to continue its annoying attachment to his companions. It was growing easier to fall back into his former disinterested attitude he had held before.

Yet, at the same time it was making him feel nauseous. Especially whenever Ellis spoke to him. The mechanic kept smiling nervously at him and making little comments about nothing in particular and each time Nick continued to stare forward as though he hadn't heard him. It was obvious in Ellis' voice that he was growing more and more despondent at the lack of response from him.

They climbed the ladder onto the cafés rooftop, Coach leading. The big man moved straight to the power box and after fiddling with a few buttons, the burger sign exploded with life. Nick stared up at the slowly rotating ugly thing and couldn't help but think of it as an invitation to the Infected.

Please, my gory little friends, come on by and have a snack. Why, have a full course meal! There's only just four of us and a couple hundred of you. Honestly, we have no chance! So come on, get it while it's still hot and screaming!

Nick spotted a vantage point. It looked to be the air vent system over the kitchen below. He broke his silence. "Coach, give me a boost up there." Coach looked at him as though he had spoken gibberish, but Nick did not meet his gaze. He just kept his eyes staring hard at the sniping area. Coach crouched beside Nick and hooked his hands together. Nick stepped onto the interlaced fingers and with seemingly little effort, Coach hoisted Nick high enough so that the man could grab hold of the metal and pull himself up.

From his vantage point, Nick could see everything. From where they had come bodies floated in the water like fall leaves in an urban swimming pool. All around the Infected were scrambling up walls, ladders and fences, trying their damned hardest to get to them.

Nick knelt, swinging the sniper rifle from off his shoulder and lifted the scope to his eye. _Click._ **Bang.** It was strangely satisfying to see the Smoker creeping along the side of the building explode in a puff of dirty smoke. Nick almost smiled. He swung the rifle about, sending off a few more shots that exploded the Infected into a syrupy mess. Bye, bye you filthy little fucks. Enjoy Hell.

God… he felt good. It felt good to kill these sons of bitches. It felt good watching his bullets tearing into their flesh. It felt good watching the guts spilling from their bodies. It felt great.

Nick began to laugh, hard. He couldn't help himself. His body shook with laughter, his eyes glistening with something maybe just short of pure insanity. God, he couldn't stop laughing. He couldn't quench this sudden blood-thirsty desire to kill every single one of these fucking zombies. This desire to never, ever stop.

"Nick! Nick! _Come on!_" Ellis screamed, for perhaps the tenth time. He pulled a pack of ammo from his hip and with all his might threw it at the conman. It smacked the other in the shoulder and Nick turned quickly, gun leading. Ellis threw up his hands. "Hey, man, it's me! Come on, the boat's here! Virgil's here!"

Nick stared. His face was blank.

Without a word, the conman turned back to the Infected crawling up the building and continued his massacre. The masses were growing now that Rochelle and Coach had began to descend down the building.

Ellis let out choking noise of disbelief? What the hell?

"Nick! Come on! It's time to go! Nick?" Ellis suddenly felt a panic overtaking him. Nick had no intentions of following them. What the hell? What the hell? _What the hell?_ A hot film of tears clouded Ellis' vision. He threw down his own weapon, hands clenched at his sides and with all his voice bellowed at the conman, "YOU PROMISED, NICK. YOU PROMISED ME!" Then he was clawing his way up the metal siding towards the other man.

Nick looked down at him, startled as Ellis grabbed hold of his ankle. Ellis was staring, desperately up at him, unable to pull himself up any higher. Even though it was pouring rain and there was nothing dry about any of them, it was obvious that the kid was crying. He was screaming, yelling, jerking on Nick's leg angrily.

Nick blinked hard, shaking his head quickly of his gripping insanity and then scooted over the edge. He landed beside Ellis who gave him a hurt scowl. Nick had never felt so guilty.

Together, hand in hand, Ellis led them to the boat as Rochelle and Coach covered them. A Molotov flew over their heads. A sea of fire erupted behind them. Their fate was sealed. Nick would not die here. Not today.

The two threw themselves onto the boat just as Virgil cranked the wheel out to sea. They lay panting, aching, on the boats deck. Nick finally glanced up and Ellis was scowling at him from where he lay. His lips were trembling, brow furrowed with fury, frustrated tears still in his eyes.

"You promised me, Nick!" Ellis choked out, pushing himself up onto his knees. Nick did likewise, staring wordlessly. "Say somethin', damn it! What were you thinkin'?" God, he sounded so sick, so desperate to hear Nick say something, _anything_. "Why won't you say nothin'?" Ellis whispered hoarsely.

Nick reached out for Ellis, his hand quivering. The conman blinked rapidly—against the rain or the tears? Wait, tears? Was he crying? He was, wasn't he? Ellis moved towards him and Nick allowed himself to become enveloped in the mechanics arms. He began to sob.

Nick sobbed because he knew that he had hoped he had died back there. He sobbed because he had prayed that he wouldn't have to keep trying to destroy these feels of affection. He wept because he knew that he was still alive and consequently he was going to have to live in the constant state of fear knowing that Ellis may not make it through all of this.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading :)


	6. Chapter 6

At some point Ellis had half drug, half carried Nick inside the safety of the boats cabin to get out of the storm. Nick hadn't been very helpful. He had gone limp like a rag doll. It was unnerving.

And now the conman sat silently, staring blankly, hunched forward with his hands folded together between his knees. Water dripped from his hair and down his face. He refused to show any signs of life underneath that emotionless mask.

"Nick… come on, Nick…" Ellis said softly, pulling a towel around Nick's shoulders. "Ya gatta snap out of it, Nick… Come on, man…"

Nick did not move. Did not speak. He barely blinked, almost as if he kept forgetting. The only thing steady was his slow shallow breaths. Like he was suddenly broken.

Eventually Ellis was forced to give up trying to get a verbal response out of the other. Ellis coaxed the man of his wet clothes with gentle reassuring touches and smiles. He managed to dress the conman in a dry, unattractive bulk of clothes that Virgil had offered to the sopping wet survivors.

Nick remained silent, remained like a doll. After being redressed he had laid himself down on one of the uncomfortable beds, eyes staring above in complete detached ignorance.

Ellis reached out to run his fingers through Nick's damp hair. It had softened under the heavy rains.

Everything about the conman had seemed to have crumbled under those heavy rains—his mind, his body, his heart… his will.

Finally, the mechanic stood.

"I'm gonna go find ya somethin' to eat, Nick… I'll be right back." He gave Nick one last long stare before he exited the cabin. He passed Rochelle and Coach along the way, both sitting at an uncomfortably small table, looking somewhere between being intensely relieved and entirely spent. They both looked his way but Ellis only half smiled as if to say 'I'm workin' on it, guys. I'm workin' on makin' him better.'

Ellis opened the door to the wheelhouse and poked his head in.

"Um.. hey, Virgil?" The jolly man turned to look at him. Virgil was a wiry little guy, with an ever-always arched eyebrow and a slight mischievous smirk. He was dressed in overalls that were entirely too big for his scrawny body and he was smoking so much that the entire room was a thick cloud of white. Ellis squinted against the burning smoke. "I was wonderin' if… I know it's a lot to ask… if ya have food to spare?"

"Ooo, righty, right!" Virgil exclaimed, slapping at his thigh. He took a drag of his cigarette as he knocked a few levers, sending the Lagniappe into cruise control. "I knew I was forgettin' somethin'. Righ' this way." With a bound and a leap over a broken floorboard, the older man led the other back down the stairs.

"Hey… Virgil?" Ellis ventured. He squeezed alongside the other down a small hallway of the not-so-spacious fishing vessel, "I was wonderin' if maybe you could spare a cigarette… Just one would be real great."

Virgil came to a stop and looked over at the mechanic. Ellis was afraid he was going to say no. But, then the captain smiled and shoved opened the door. "Spare one? Kid, I got a million. Take wha'chu want." Virgil's pantry was a stockpile of canned foods while, easily, the other half was cigarettes. Ellis laughed out loud.

Hol-ee Shit.

* * *

Ellis returned a half hour later with a bowl of soup in his hands. It took some coaxing, but eventually Nick sat up and began to eat.

Nick didn't even know what it was. He didn't really care. His taste buds had abandoned him along with any real thought. Each motion he made to bring food to his mouth seemed like too much of an effort. But he ate because of how Ellis stared. He simply consumed the food just so Ellis would stop staring at him like he was dying… All the while, he could feel everything inside of him grinding to a halt.

When Nick finished, the conman simply sat there again until Ellis took the empty bowl away. Then the mechanic began to smile sheepishly. Nick half-heartedly wondered what sneaky thing the kid had thought up.

Ellis reached into the pocket of his borrowed pants and flicked open the cigarette pack. He slid one out. Beaming, he held it up before Nick's eyes.

Nick stared at it for a long time, utterly surprised. Then he blinked and for the first time since they had arrived on the boat, looked Ellis fully in the face. Tentatively, as if he was unsure if it was actually an illusion, Nick reached out and took it from the other and slowly, still unsure if it was real, stuck it between his lips. He leaned over to grab his pants drying on the nearby rack and pulled his lighter from it.

_Click. Click. Click._ The flame came to life and Nick lit the end of the cancer stick eagerly. Then he inhaled.

His eyes fluttered closed as an intense feeling of satisfaction overwhelmed him. His lungs filled with the warmth of nicotine and he probably would have cried had he any tears left. God, it tasted so good.

Nick sat with his eyes closed, puffing at the cigarette in deep breaths, enjoying every bit of it. It was halfway done when he finally opened his eyes. Ellis was sitting on the nearby chair, his legs pulled up and his arms wrapped around them, smiling at him. God, he looked so damn proud of himself.

Nick half smiled back at him, unwilling to trust himself to speak still. Nick leaned back into the bed again, resting his free hand behind his head as he stared absently at nothing in particular above. The room filled with the smell of cigarettes and the smoke wafted about the room in gentle coils.

Ellis, maybe because he didn't like the smell of cigarettes, or because he felt that Nick needed a moment to relax, stood up to leave. He fished into his pocket and then tossed the rest of the pack of cigarettes onto Nicks chest. The conman jerked slightly, looking down at it in complete and honest surprise. His gaze fell on the retreating form of the mechanic.

"Hey," he called. Ellis came to a stop, turning around to give him a wide-eyed stare. Nick lifted the pack up. "Thanks."

Ellis smiled once again before he left the room, leaving Nick to sit in dumbfounded amazement, one cigarette burning between his fingers, a near full pack in the other.

* * *

It took Nick four more cigarettes until he finally mustered the courage to get out of the bed and go searching for Ellis.

Unable to stand the clothes he was wearing, Nick pulled back on his old suit—not very concerned that it was still filthy and damp. It made him feel more secure… The familiarity of it eased his nerves.

He left the room, puffing worriedly at a cigarette. He came through the kitchen, intent on finding the mechanic. To his left he saw Rochelle and Coach chatting tiredly at a small cramped table.

"Ellis?" Nick asked, not really caring that he hadn't really formed a full sentence.

Coach nodded towards the door leading outside and Nick gave him a nod of thanks before exiting. In all honesty, Nick was expecting rain. He found nothing but clear skies and he paused in his search; maybe giving himself more time to stall.

He was fucking nervous as hell, truth be told. Nick stood outside the door, just before the corner. He glanced quickly around it. And damn it, there Ellis was, standing there staring out at the ocean in perfect silence. Jesus. Nick leaned back against the wall, reluctant to go any further. He sucked more insistently at the cigarette, aware of how he was starting to shake.

"Nick." The conman about jumped out of his skin and turned to face Rochelle. The woman smiled apologetically. "You need to sort out whatever you've got going in your head right now. You two need to sit down and have a talk. And you need to do it before this boat pulls up to the next dock." She was completely serious in her tone, but her face was soft. She reached out to gently squeeze Nick's shoulder. "Figure it out, Nick. We need you. We need you both."

Nick gave her one last bothered frown until he sighed loudly and stepped around the corner. He moved cautiously towards the mechanic.

"Ellis…" The southerner turned, blinking at the conman. He eyed Nick up and down for a moment, lips pursed in a slight scowl before his gaze returned back to the ocean.

The sun was setting. The sky was a brilliant violet, a soft red-orange and a flaring yellow all at once. It was beautiful. It almost made Nick feel like all this zombie shit hadn't really happened. But the feel of a once-expensive unwashed suit sticking to his body reminded him that yes, this was really happening.

Nick leaned up against the railing along side his companion, still chain-smoking anxiously.

"Nick," Ellis finally said, "What do ya think is gonna happen to us after all of this is over with?"

Nick busied himself with finding another cigarette, the last one abandoned over the side of the boat (hell this was a zombie apocalypse after all, all the environmentalist were probably fucking dead anyways). He lit it in his mouth, took a long draw and then let it smoke lazily between his fingers.

"You know the answer to that, Ellis."

Ellis head dropped slightly and he sighed. "Yeah… they'll probably jus' shoot us, right?" He shrugged slightly. "That'd really be somethin' awful. I'd like to think that they'll be happy to have us. That they'll do their best to make sure we get better… That when we're done with all this fightin' an' shit, that I can find Ma an' Keith an' Dave an' everyone else an' we'll just give each other hugs an' laugh 'bout all this like it's been one big horrible nightmare." Ellis laughed mirthlessly. "But I know you're right, Nick—'bout probably bein' alone an' all. I ain't stupid. I know tha' Ma an' everyone else is probably dead. But…" He smiled, despite the tears that were in his eyes, "It feels nice to think that they're waitin' for me to come home. Ya know?"

"Yeah, Ellis. I know." Nick swallowed thickly. Shit, it would be nice if Overalls were right on the money. But hell, Nick had this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that everything wasn't going to end with rainbows and lollipops.

There was another long silence. "Nick?"

"Hm?"

"Why do ya keep gettin' all weird?" A sigh came from the conman and Ellis looked at him, continuing somberly, "I thought ya said ya weren't gonna go an' die on me."

"Shit happens, Ellis. I'm powerless to stop the will of the gods. If they're going to take me, it's going to happen whether you like it or not." Ellis made an annoyed face and glared towards the horizon.

"That just sounds like some shitty ass excuse to get yourself killed." Ellis huffed. "I mean, I know that I probably don't have no one from before no more… I know that. I ain't dumb. All I got now is probably Coach, Rochelle an'... an' you." He risked a glance at Nick who was staring at him, cigarette forgotten as it burned away, leaving sprinkles of ashes on his calloused knuckles. "Man, ya'll might be the last three friends I got left. Ya can't go an' die."

"Ellis…"

"Yeah?"

Nick licked his dried lips. God, how his heart thundered. "I didn't want to get attached to you. But shit, you had to go and make me care about every little thing that happens to you. Every little bump you get, every little scrape and bruise that finds its way on your body tortures me…" Nick shook as he brought the cigarette to his mouth, but he seemed to forget about it halfway there and just continued, "If you died, Ellis… God, if you died, it'd destroy me. It'd fucking destroy me. Christ, Ellis, I'm afraid to keep living because I'm afraid to watch you die." There. He had said it. Plainly. His cards were out on the table and now Ellis knew the hand that he held.

"Nick…" Ellis frowned slightly, shrugging. "I don't plan on dyin', so you better start plan on livin'."

Nick gave him a startled stare, before a smile crept onto his lips. Jesus. Didn't plan on dying? Christ. He probably didn't.

Overwhelmed by the cuteness Ellis was emitting, Nick leaned over to the other, his intentions only being to lay an affectionate kiss on his cheek, but Ellis turned at the last moment and their lips met. It was a soft kiss, one that was gentle, inquiring. Ellis leaned closer, hands rising to place themselves slowly onto Nick's chest. The kiss became a little firmer, more confident. Nick rose one hand to brush softly at the others auburn locks, amused by how the kid was not wearing that silly hat.

Then the kiss was over and they were staring at each other.

Nick opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it. He was unsure of what that kiss had just meant.

"God damn, Nick…" Ellis said, letting out a soft breath of gentle relief. "I've been waitin' for ya to do that since forever ago."

Ah, those sweet butterflies were back. Nick didn't know what to feel, but he felt happy. "Jesus, are we really doing this, Ellis? Do you really want this?"

Ellis chuckled, "Nick, I've been wantin' this since the day we first held hands."

Nick couldn't help himself. He smiled and pulled the other close for another, less innocent kiss. Ellis melted against him, enjoying every second of it, enjoying the faint taste of nicotine, the softness of the others hair, the firmness of his rough hands.

* * *

_**A/N**__:_

_O la-la. _

I thought about this all night long (and lost so much sleep over it, gawd I'm tired) and I think for now I'm happy with where it's going. I'm a little unnerved that I have so much left to write through the Parish, but I'm hoping I can get a good pace through it to keep interest for both myself and the readers.

Thank you again for reading and for the comments. I really, really appreciate it.


	7. Chapter 7

Well… this wasn't exactly what he had been expecting, but Nick supposed it'd have to work. He glanced over to Ellis who was standing next to him, staring into the silent waters, one hand rubbing at his lips worriedly.

Virgil had about laughed himself to death when Nick had inquired if there was as shower anywhere on board. No, the captain had said, you tie a rope around your wrist, strip naked and hop over board with a bar of soap in hand. Nick had at first thought he was kidding, but as it turned out, Virgil had been serious.

So, now they drifted lazily, the engine cut from the little fishing boat so Virgil's guests could give themselves a proper wash down.

Yeah, Virgil had been _completely_ serious.

Ah, well. Nick began to undress himself and looked to Ellis who still had this strange look on his face as he stared hard at the water. Nick felt a frown tugging at his lips. "What's wrong?" the conman inquired gently.

"Ain't there like… sharks an' stuff in there?" the southerner asked uncomfortably.

"Uh, yeah, Ellis. It's the ocean. It's where they live." God, did Ellis ever think before talking? Nah, probably not. Nick decided he liked that.

"What 'bout them like… giant squid an' stuff? They're in there too, ain't they?"

Nick's face scrunched up, obviously unable to even begin to grasp where Ellis' anxiety was coming from. "What does it matter?"

Ellis moved closer to the edge. "Loch Ness monster?" he whispered fearfully. He turned to Nick but whatever he was going to say next came out in an incoherent stutter. Nick was standing there, naked. Very, very naked. Ellis' heart jumped into his throat.

"The Loch Ness monster is in Scotland, Ellis," Nick said patiently. Then _splash_ the conman dove overboard.

Ellis let out a little whimper, running to the side of the boat and searching the water desperately. Nick surfaced, throwing back his wet locks and brushing the water from his eyes. Well, it wasn't exactly a hot shower, but it sure beat the hell out of smelling and feeling like walking death.

"Throw me that soap, would you?" Nick asked, swimming back to the boat and grabbing hold of the small platform underneath the ladder. Ah, well, at least Virgil had made a few minor tweaks to the vessel making it easier for a 'man over board' to climb back in. Ellis came shuffling over with the bar of soap and leaned over to hand it to the other. Nick took it and began to run the soap into his locks, studying the nervous mechanic. "Well? Coming in, or are you just going to watch me?"

Ellis blushed. "I don't know 'bout this Nick… I mean… I can't…" Ellis made a face. He struggled visibly for a moment, like the next few words were simply just too torturous for him to spit out. "Nick, I can't swim."

Nick titled his head up at the little farm boy from Georgia, soapsuds bubbling down his face in little white rivers. "Are you being serious, Ellis?" he asked.

Ellis really wished he was kidding. Honest to God he really wished he was. His miserable expression made it clear.

"Well," Nick frowned, shrugging. "Just stay by the platform here. You don't have to swim out any further than that to get clean." He slipped under the water and ran his fingers vigorously through his hair to free it from bubbles. When he resurfaced, Ellis was still standing in the same spot. "Ellis… I promise, I'll kick Nessie's ass if it tries to eat you." Ellis, despite how he still looked unwilling, smiled goofily at the thought.

It was odd how their roles had reversed. Here Ellis was, timid; shy, unwilling to compromise (like a certain conman had been recently) while Nick coaxed him, not only with masterful words, but with some seriously sexy smirks. Aw, hell.

Before Ellis knew it he was jumping off the side of the boat (stark naked) while flailing and hollering as he went over.

Nick chuckled under his breath as the water splashed over him. Ellis came to the surface; clawing and gasping like a drowning rat. Nick grabbed the other by the arm and guided him to the platform. Ellis clung to it like his life depended on it, his face scrunched in the same pathetic way it always did whenever a Boomer puked its loathsome bile on him.

"Jesus, just relax, Ellis. You're fine." Ellis gave him a terrified look but he calmed a little when Nick ruffled his wet locks. "You're fine, kid, I've got you. Relax."

Ellis let out a shaky breath, adjusting his deathlike grip on the wooden platform. "Aw, man, this reminds me of this one time when Keith and I were just kids and we had gotten this really cool new teacher at our high school. She was all nice and everythin' and so we always did what she wanted 'cause she always had this really nice smile when she asked. Well, anyway, for our senior trip we went to this like, camp or somethin' where they got them really big tight-rope walkin' things and she knew that Keith was afraid of height's and all, but she wanted him to like, overcome his fear or somethin'. So, because she had asked with such a nice smile, he decided he was gunna go ahead and try it out." By this time, Nick had started soaping Ellis' hair. Nick half-listened as Ellis continued to ramble. "And she kept tellin' him he as gonna be okay and stuff, but then like, half way through Keith fell—and his harness, I'm not even kiddin' ya, like undid itself or somethin' and he came, like, flyin' halfway out of it. Then he was like, hangin' upside down and everyone was freakin' out and stuff and he was screamin' and hollerin' and cryin'. Man, it took them _four hours_ to get him down from there. When they finally did they had to take him to the hospital and stuff 'cause all the blood vessels in his face had exploded from hangin' upside down for so long and—"

"Ellis…" Nick said softly, "Go under the water and get the soap out of your hair."

"Okay." Ellis did just that and when he resurfaced he sputtered and coughed as though he had forgotten to hold his breath. Nick assumed as much. Ellis brushed the water from his eyes before looking back at Nick. The mechanic flushed at the sight of the other—Nick's normally meticulously placed hair was sticking to his face in wet locks. Ellis kind of wanted to grab him and kiss him full on the mouth… but he was too damn scared to let go of the only thing keeping him from drowning.

Nick pushed away from the boat and floated on his back, blinking up at the blue sky. He exhaled softly. He had almost forgot what the suns warmth felt like. He had missed it. "Damn," Nick swore softly, "does the weather really always change this fast around here, Ellis?"

"Y-Yeah," Ellis replied, shifting his arms on the platform so he could look over at the conman. His flush from before only deepened. Man, Nick really didn't seem to realize how entirely exposed he was—or maybe he just didn't care. Either way, Ellis wasn't complaining. He chewed at this lip. There was so much about Nick that was a mystery. Ellis found this sudden burning desire to know more. "Where are ya from anyways, Nick?"

Nick was silent for a moment, eyes closed as he took in the calmness all around. Ellis' question took a moment to register. "Originally? Ah, that'd be Castellammare di Stabia."

"Castawhadabia? Huh?"

"It's a city in Italy, Ellis."

Ellis' eyes grew wide with wonderment. "You're shittin' me, Nick?" he breathed. "I _knew_ ya were an Italian mobster!"

Nick jerked slightly in the water to look at the other, blinking. Then he began to laugh, hard. "Ellis, just because I'm Italian doesn't mean I'm in the mafia, Jesus. You watch way too many god damn movies. Besides, I only lived there until I was nine. My family moved to the states after that." Nick made a little noise. "In the mob. Jesus."

"Well, where else would ya have learned to shoot a gun?" Ellis asked defensively. "And, besides, ya look like ya walked out of that movie Godfather." Nick laughed even harder.

Nick gave up trying to relax in the water and instead swam back to Ellis. He took hold of the platform beside him and raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. "Let's just say, instead, that I wanted to be a cop when I was a kid." Ellis stared hard at him, like he didn't believe a word of it. Nick smirked at that look. "Any other questions?"

"So, um… like… are ya still close with your family?" Ellis tilted his head one way, staring down at the wooden planks. "All I ever had was Ma. My daddy died when I was just a lil' kid. Ma always told me he was a good man. He liked cars, ya know? I think that rubbed off on me too. I think Ma was proud that I was alway's fixin' 'em and stuff. She used to watch me from the porch and jus' smile. I think it reminded her of him…"

"I'm sorry, Ellis." Nick crossed his arms over the wood, resting his chin down onto them. He was frowning, his brow furrowed. "That really sucks."

"Yeah, it does, but I turned out all right." Ellis elbowed the conman. "Ya never answered me, Nick."

Nick almost sighed, not really wanting to venture down this road, but this was Ellis—and he trusted him. "I ran away when I was sixteen."

"Whaaa? Seriously?" Ellis' asked, flabbergasted. "Why would ya go and do that for?"

Nick absent-mindedly studied the water droplets drying on Ellis' arms, resisting the urge to run his wet hands all over him just so he could watch them disappear slowly again. The conman shrugged quietly. "By the time I was thirteen our family had fallen apart. You can call it cultural shock or you can say my parents realized that they actually hated each other, I guess it really makes no difference now. I got sick of the yelling." Nick blinked slowly, recalling the memory from so long ago. "Mom made Risotto the night I left. I remember Armand complained. He hated Risotto."

"That's seriously depressin', Nick." Ellis frowned, "Why didn't ya go back? Most kids take a stroll 'round the block or punch stuff. I know I did when Ma and I got in fights, but, damn, I never left for good."

Nick shrugged slightly. "I think it's a little late for regrets now." A heavy silence followed. Yeah… it was a little late for that. Ellis swallowed thickly, frowning hard. Nick tangled his fingers into Ellis' hair. "Don't sweat it, Ellis. I'm a big boy now and that was a long time ago." Ellis smiled at the touch.

Then the mechanic found himself becoming lost in those jade-gold eyes.

Damn, everything just seemed so naively perfect now. Like this was turning into some kind of sickly sweet honeymoon vacation or something. Nothing in the world could possibly ruin it… not even the thought that tomorrow they would be back out there, fighting their way through hundreds of snarling Infected towards New Orleans. Not even an uncertain future could possibly ruin this moment.

Ellis leaned over, pathetically attempting to kiss Nick on the lips. He couldn't quite reach at the angle and so he settled with kissing the conman tenderly on the shoulder.

Nick's face slowly became something just short of devilish. "Ellis… If I wasn't so sure you'd drown, I'd be all over you right now."

The slyest of smiles crept onto Ellis' lips. "Well… there is this here platform." He leaned his weight experimentally on it, glancing sideways at the conman.

"Well… then, I say, get your ass up there."

Ellis hauled himself up onto the platform, legs still in the water as he sat there, grinning that ridiculously adorable grin that always made Nick smile back. The conman slid his arms up around the others waist and pulled himself high enough to place a kiss on the mechanic's lips. It was hard though, since they were both grinning so damn much.

Ellis buried his fingers into Nick's hair, running them through the wet locks and admiring the texture, relishing the feel of it, loving everything about it. Nick's lips left his with a soft sigh, but returned with little butterfly kisses that worked their way down Ellis' throat, collar and chest with perfect tenderness. Then, suddenly, the kisses stopped.

Ellis blinked curiously down at the other. Nick's eyes hovered just over the area where the Witch from not so long ago had about ended his life. It wasn't quite healed, and it was obvious that when it did, it would be a very nasty scar. Nick closed his eyes and leaned forward, gently kissing the wound. He kissed it over and over and over; firm kisses that were wet and warm. It made Ellis shiver.

Nick had such a masterful touch. His rough fingers brushed Ellis' body in gentle sweeps, his nails ran down the mechanic's sides and Ellis' skin exploded with goosebumps. Everywhere Nick touched sent a shiver of pleasure down Ellis' spine. The southerners breaths began to catch in his throat. His body practically shook with anticipation.

If he died now, he was convinced that not even Heaven itself could have felt any more blissful.

* * *

**A/N:** All right. So, writing intimacy and posting it is like, totally a new experience for me and so right now I'm struggling really hard with doing it without dying of embarrassment. So I'm going to try and build my courage as this goes and if things go well, it will become more detailed. But.. man... I kept turning red with the thought of posting what I had originally written. AHEM... yeah. So... bare with me, I'm a little bit of a coward. I'm workin' awn it, man! (And I'm super sorry if you were reading this with the expectation that there'd be some hot steamy yaoi goin' on all over the place).

I BS'ed Nick's background. I know I've read a few comments that a lot of people find Nick being Italian as a cliche... but in my opinion, it's a good cliche because it fits him. The name of that city in southern Italy just sounded super cool. I wish I lived there. (Also, I've never seen the movie Godfather LOL)

Also, Ellis not being able to swim is just... my way of making myself feel better for not being able to swim. LOL. And I thought it'd be cute.

Anyways... Thank you so much for reading and for the reviews


	8. Chapter 8

The two-day journey on the Lagniappe ended far too quickly. They had tried to convince Virgil to come along, but the little man had smiled and shook his head. Naw, he had said, there still may be some folks out there that needed a lift.

If there ever was a person with a good heart, it was definitely Virgil. Not to mention it also helped Nick's opinion on the man by the fact that the fisherman had given him two whole packs of cigarettes. Virgil was definitely on his Christmas list.

The four watched the boat sail away while over the loudspeaker Virgil voice rang, "Good luck to ya all, Gods speed!"

"Take care of yourself, brother!" Coach called back. It was doubtful Virgil had heard him, but all the same. There was a stillness as they watched the boat disappear around the pier. Coach looked back to his companions. He smiled tiredly. "We're almost there, folks. Let's make this count."

They moved with heightened caution. It was silent. Dead silent. That was weird… weren't they near the evacuation center CEDA had set up? Where was everyone—well, where were all the zombies?

The four kept a tight line as they moved forward. The ground was littered with days old newspapers, trash and fliers that read i_'wash your hands!'/i_ with a stupid little smiling face giving all the reasons as to why you should do just that. Nick doubted washing your hands could rid you of this "Green Flu". Shit, washing yourself in bleach probably wouldn't keep you safe.

They moved in silence. Everyone was afraid to speak, afraid to jinx the eerie peacefulness. That was, at least, until Ellis' endless need to comment on everything overcame him.

"Man, why's everthin' always gatta be all broken and shit?" Ellis asked as they approached a badly abused and neglected semi-enclosed café. It may have at one point been a beautiful and peaceful place to sit idly and chat… but now it was nothing more than a scene of overturned tables and chairs and broken glass. A light above was still flickering as though it was trying to hold on to the past. In the corner, the glow of a jukebox beamed as though it hadn't quite caught on to the somber destruction.

Ellis, out of curiosity, moved to it. "I wonder if this thing still works?" He leaned forward, poking at a few random buttons. The jukebox seemed to hiccup and then suddenly came to life.

"Well, I'll be damned," Rochelle mused quietly beside him.

And then the album clicked on and out blared a familiar tune.

"Holy shit, it's the Midnight Riders!" Ellis exclaimed. His face was nothing short of absolute delight. The mechanic spun around to face his companions, flipping his assault rifle down and began to strum at it as though it were a guitar. "BUH BUH DAH DAH DAAAH, DAH DAAH DAAAH DAAAAAH!" Beside him, Coach's rumbling voice joined in as the lyrics began.

"I'm a bad bad dog with no house or a home, women, whisky, wheels on the roaaad! Got my seven-fifty howlin' and my shotgun loaded! I'm full and about to explooode!"

Nick looked to Rochelle. "Please tell me those two idiots aren't doing what I think they're doing." Although he said it flatly, a smirk was tugging at the corner of his mouth. Rochelle shook her head as if to say 'I don't get it either'. "Overalls," Nick called firmly. "Is now really the time?"

"Aw, man, but it's gettin' to the best part!" Ellis sighed dramatically. "All right, fine. Come on, Coach. We don't need no jukebox to sing! Ride on, my friend, let's ride on!"

Needless to say, Rochelle and Nick were forced to listen to the other two sing the song, sometimes back and forth, sometimes in terrible unison. At a different time, months earlier, when they had first met, Nick wouldn't have hesitated to tell them to shut the fuck up. Now though, his heart had softened. Instead, the conman simply grinned along side Rochelle who kept rolling her eyes as the two Midnight Rider fans became more and more enthusiastic with each new verse. God, they were idiots.

It wasn't until they entered through the backdoor of some abandoned kitchen that they were rudely reminded of their predicament.

Coach pushed opened the door, gun held lazily under his other arm, still singing (Ellis echoing at all the right spots). "Keep rolling! It's all right! Keep riding! The midnight—" A terrible shriek was all that gave any warning that on the other side awaited a Hunter. Coach fumbled for his gun but the Infected had pounced him, claws tearing and ripping into his flesh.

Nick threw himself forward, butting his rifle against the Hunters face. Blood exploded as its front teeth were knocked lose from the impact. It stumbled back, snarling, trying to right itself. It never had a chance. Nick slammed the gun into its face again and again until the Hunter crumbled to the ground as its skull caved in over the right side of its face. A sickly wet trail of blood pooled around its still body.

The conman turned back quickly to find Coach already on his feet—his face stunned. A little blood was trailing down his arms, but for the most part, he seemed relatively unhurt.

"Thanks for the quick reaction," was all the man said. He was visibly shaken.

There was no more singing.

Nick reached for a skillet on the blood-splattered stove. He lifted the thing and tried the weight. He was impressed. The thing was heavy. This could save some bullets.

They moved through the kitchen, shoving opened the door to find a room full of ambling Infected. One turned to them, blinking blankly as if it hadn't quite registered that the strangers weren't drooling spit all over themselves with obvious Infection. Then it let out a snarl and charged forward. Its scream alerted the others and they all scrambled after the four—rasping mouths leading.

_iBong!/i_ Nick couldn't help himself, he began to laugh, swinging the skillet around to smash an Infected reaching for Rochelle. i_Bong!/i_ Its nose splattered and its eyes crossed. It grasped uselessly at the air a few times as it stumbled backwards before falling over in a daze.

They continued to make their way through the dying wave and when they had just about reached the street a fat, oily bulk of a Boomer lunged into view. Rochelle let out a squeal as clawed hands reached after her and she let off two rounds of her shotgun that jerked her small frame violently. The first hit its mark, sending the Boomer exploding in a shower of bile that covered her freshly washed clothes with green sticky nastiness. The second shot, however, pelted into an abandoned car.

Well shit. What was with people and leaving their alarms on? Assholes.

It began to blare obnoxiously.

"Get back, Rochelle!" Ellis called, grabbing the young woman by the arm. He pulled her back as she tried desperately to wipe the vomit from her face, looking absolutely revolted. She slipped on the slick ground and fell onto her ass with a grunt, gun sliding away.

Then, probably because they were so use to protecting each other, the three men unquestioningly moved to stand around her, weapons flaring, bodies rocking with the recoil. Nick had long ago abandoned his frying pan, understanding that it was no match verses this sudden intense and angry horde—even though it had been super fun.

Rochelle had at one point managed to clear her vision and recover her gun. She knelt, scooting forward in between Ellis and Coach, her gun now joining the hailstorm of bullets.

It seemed like forever, but finally the Infected began to come in straggling ones and twos. They picked them off easily.

Obviously embarrassed, Rochelle got to her feet, offering an apologetic smile. "My bad, boys. My bad."

"Hey, don't sweat it," Nick said, surprising himself. "I was getting bored anyways." She looked at him, smiling now with appreciation. It appeared that a certain someone's optimism was rubbing off on the conman. Well, that was a nice change.

It was practically a hop and a skip later that they found themselves a comfortable safe room. Although they hadn't come very far, it seemed like a bad idea to continue with Rochelle reeking with that awful stench that the Infected seemed to love so much. She quietly excused herself and retreated into the bathroom, presumably to try and clean the mess from herself.

Ellis took this time to shuffle up to the conman and wrap his arms around him, nuzzling contently into his chest. Nick blinked at first, glancing to Coach who suddenly became entirely fixated on bandaging his wounds from the Hunter. Coach was choosing, for now, to remain blissfully ignorant of the other two men's obvious affection.

Nick leaned down to place a gentle kiss on the mechanics cheek, pulling him against him almost possessively. Ellis blinked up at him curiously, but he was smiling, pleased.

For now, they had made it. The little mechanic still smelled like soap and freshly washed clothes, despite the few splatters of blood on his torn t-shirt. The bruises on his skin from their long journey were still painful to behold, but for now, he was safe, unhurt still since they left the safety of the Lagniappe.

Nick's grip tightened a little more. He knew it was only a matter of time.

* * *

**A/N:**

The Parish campaign has always been annoying for me. Not because of the layout (the layout is pretty sweet) but because the level's vary so much in length. They're either way too short, or freakishly too long. So, consequently, this chapter is a little short, if not also, really lacking in any real interesting events. (Although Ellis' little spiel made me laugh stupidly at the imagery)

I must share. I was playing as Ellis (for once) on Dead Center and at one point Nick had gotten Boomed on so I was kneeling in front of him machete-ing the horde. Then Nick whispered that little gentle "Ellis" and I thought I was hitting him, so I sort of scooted forward a little more and then he whispered "Ellis" again, so I finally turned and looked at him and he's like "Overalls!" with that little grin. I've NEVER heard the bots JUST say each others names before. They always follow it up with a comment… but Nick was just totally whispering Ellis' name over and over. I think it was because I was protecting him, but… gawd, I don't know. It really made me grin like an idiot. Also, I find it totally distressing how my game refuses to let me spam the voice button with Ellis. It's totally strange. When I'm Nick I can just say everyone's names over and over as much as I want, but with Ellis he hardly ever reacts with the command. It's very contradicting lol.

And on that note, has anyone noticed that on the first level of Hard Rain the bots always pull weapons out of a wall right after you jump over that first camper? I finally staked out the area and saw where they were getting them. INSIDE of a building you can't even get into (it's the saferoom on the way back). It's total crap. I always felt like an idiot because I couldn't find it, but now I realize they have Jesus powers. Cheap bastards.


	9. Chapter 9

There was no sign that the peacefulness from the day before would continue. When they finally pulled the barricade down from the exit, it seemed as far as they could see, that there were Infected milling about. They bumped into each other, hands clawing at their faces as they let out little moans of pain. Some vomited violently onto their feet before they continued wandering. Yeah… so much for an easy stroll.

Rochelle paused, cracking the door opened again to eye the masses. She moved back in, closing the door quietly. "I think I have an idea. Ellis, lemme have that pipe bomb."

Ellis blinked blankly at her as if not comprehending what she had meant. Nick reached down to unhook it from Ellis' belt and handed it to her. Ellis decided not to mention that he had been holding onto the pipe bomb for 'good luck'. It was the very same one Nick had given him the day he had almost died. The mechanic had painstakingly remembered to not throw it. Oh well, 'bout time it came into use.

Rochelle opened the door and then lobbed the pipe bomb. It flew into the air, beeping and flashing in a way that seemed to madden the Infected. They howled in rage and raced after it, pushing and clawing over each other to try and silence it.

Then it exploded. Dozens of limbs flew through the air while intestines spilled about the ground like oily red paint on a canvas. The surviving Infected slipped on it, pawing at their wounds as they tried to get to their mangled feet. They didn't suffer for very long, however. The four Survivors came from the saferoom and mercy killed them as they went.

The four moved silently up a conspicuous flight of stairs. At the top of the stairs in an impressive and large plate read _Bienville Park._

"Oh, fantastic. A park. This should be fun," Nick noted sarcastically.

The park fell far short from fun. Every corner they turned a group of dead-eyed Infected awaited them. The four had given up their guns in favor of their various melee weapons. They were too afraid to accidentally shoot each other through the narrow maze of leafy hedges. Why, Nick wondered, they had decided to go through it instead of around, he couldn't remember. It probably made sense at the time, but right about now it was starting to seem like whoever had offered the idea should no longer be allowed to make decisions.

Suddenly from above, like some badly disfigured hawk, a giggling Jockey leaped from the towering hedges right onto the conman's back. Its fingers shoved into his eyes and mouth, tearing and jerking him about. Nick found himself becoming disorientated, and worse, he was finding it hard to call out for his companions with the Jockey's fingers practically down his throat.

Ellis came screaming after him, his axe swinging down into the Jockey's back with a sickening _crunch_. It let out a wail of pain, flailing its arms as Ellis lifted it (embedded on the axe still) off the conman and then slammed it into the ground. He shoved his foot into its withering body, jerked the axe free and then hacked it into several pieces.

"Well, that's one way to kill a Jockey," Nick commented from beside him, spitting on the ground. He wiped at his mouth, grimacing. He felt nauseous with the taste of… God he didn't want to think about it.

"God damn back humper," Ellis practically snarled, kicking the corpse. "Go find someone else to hump, asshole!" He huffed angrily, pushing up his trucker hat as he looked hard at the conman. "Ya all right, man?"

"Yeah. I could use a tic-tac though." Nick spit one last time on the ground, face scrunched with disgust. He straightened, giving Ellis a smirk. "Thanks, Overalls."

"Ain't no one touchin' ya but me," Ellis said seriously, his face matching the tone. Nick laughed and Ellis relaxed, one side of his mouth twitching into a grin; realizing how possessive he had sounded.

Nick recovered his axe from the ground. "I never pegged you as the jealous type, Ellis." But then his memory recalled the day back in the mall when Nick had insisted he drive that stupid stock car and for the first time he had heard Ellis' tone turn to one of bitter stubbornness—no, Ellis had said, he would be driving. He had come up with the idea. Ah, Jimmy Gibbs, Jr. it sure is nice to have the kid on your side, isn't it?

"Hey, where the hell did you two go?" Rochelle asked after almost plowing them over as she rounded the corner. "We turned around and you guys were gone."

Ellis pointed his axe menacingly at the Jockey's corpse and Rochelle pursed her lips together in an unspoken 'oh'. Yeah, this park was becoming a hell of a trip.

Now regrouped, the four continued their way through the park, passing through it with general ease. The Infected seemed less inclined to sprint after them as they left the tight quarters and instead seemed to be standing in a stupor, staring up at the sky in blatant awe. The four decided to save their bullets and left them.

Far off in the distance they could hear the rumble of jets. Sometimes, they could even see a mushroom cloud of fire on the horizon. Shit, it seemed like the military's intent was to destroy the entire city, maybe the entire country. The four only moved faster, spurred by this sudden and terrifying realization that it was very unlikely that anyone knew that they were here, alive.

However, as they approached a mound of bodies they came to a stop. The bloody corpses were crumpled onto each other to form an open mass grave. Mothers clung to children, couples laid hand in hand, some laid several feet from the general mass as though they had tried to escape. Bullet holes littered their bodies and pools of dried blood soaked through their clothing. These bodies weren't Infected, they never had been.

"Jesus," Rochelle breathed. One trembling hand reached up to cover her mouth. "They just shot them… This is… this is horrible."

"People shootin' people? This ain't right…" Ellis agreed quietly. He swallowed thickly, trying to look away but something inside of him refused to. He felt himself starting to shake. God, why would they do this? How could they do this?

Coach and Nick exchanged solemn looks. Although disturbed by the inhumanity, neither was willing to allow themselves to break down like their companions. They had to stay strong so that they could get out of this alive, crying wouldn't help anyone right now. The two moved forward, Coach to take the softly weeping Rochelle around the shoulders and Nick to stand quietly beside Ellis. The southerner finally looked away from the corpses, tears in his eyes. He looked as though he was going to say something, but changed his mind and just sighed.

"Come on, we have to keep moving," Nick said gently. They moved on, careful to watch their step and leave the corpses undisturbed. Humanity, it seemed, was falling apart around them, but at least the four of them still clung what little empathy they still had left.

They moved inside of a small compartment that looked have been used for quarantining. They closed the door behind them and the room became suddenly air-locked. Coach approached the door on the other side and read the warning out-loud. "Alarm will sound if door is opened before clearance from the tower..." He frowned hard, looking out the small window. There was a long maze of fencing that may have at one point served as the line for the evacuation center. In the middle there was a long plank of towers. They could just barely make out the alarm box. Well, shit.

"I don't think we have a choice," Nick said. "Are we ready?" He looked to the others who all nodded glumly.

Coach let out a long breath and then pulled the lever and pushed. The room let out a hiss as the air escaped. Then the alarm began to blare. Next came the zombies, hundreds of them, all left behind by CEDA to mercilessly succumb to the Infection.

It was like a mosh pit in a concert, or something. The only thing that kept them from maybe pretending to enjoy it was the blood. They were practically soaked in it as they rounded fences, shoving the Infected away, weapon's slicing and tearing through bodies.

The tower was close—so close! God damn, Nick could see the ladder. He hacked through three Infected with one sweep and then glanced back to his companions. They were all struggling, almost drowning in the sea of bodies.

That alarm would just keep them coming, and at this rate, none of them would make it. Nick made the decision that he couldn't let that happen.

He threw himself forward, knocking over the rest of the Infected before the ladder and then scrambled up it. He shoved another one off the next platform and began to climb the next ladder, kicking off a few more that grabbed at him as he climbed. He reached the top, feeling hands grabbing at him, teeth biting at him. With strength he didn't even know he had, he continued to run, feeling his clothes being ripped. It became harder to shove them away, harder to swing his axe.

But he reached it. He reached the damn alarm. He smashed the button down and the awful blaring stopped. He spun about, shoving a cluster of Infected right off the tower to their deaths. He swung the other way with the axe. Hot blood splattered his face, soaked his arms.

Then he was suddenly jerked off the side of the tower. He grabbed and clawed at anything he could get his hands on, but it was fruitless. His legs and arms caught a few bars on the tower as he tumbled over the side, breaking his fall. He hit the ground hard anyways and he felt an explosion of pain down his side. He tried to stand but he was suddenly being dragged backwards. His lungs began to constrict as something around him tightened; it became hard to breathe. All around him the faces of Infected sneered and screamed as they clawed at him.

All he could think of was Ellis. Angry at him for dying. Screaming at him for being stupid. Crying because he was gone. His vision blurred with tears and blood. Everything began to grow dark.

"NO!"

The Infected all around him suddenly lurched back as a hail of bullets ripped them to shreds. The tightness around Nick's body disappeared and a cloud of dirty smoke filled his lungs. He coughed weakly, blinking through the haze of blood as his savior knelt over him. It was Ellis. Of course it was.

"Nick, Nick! Can ya hear me, Nick? Come on, Nick, talk to me!" Ellis had thrown down his gun and he was pawing at the bloody conman. He brushed the slick crimson from Nick's face. Nick's eyes fluttered opened. "Oh, thank ya, Jesus. Thank ya, God. You're okay, Nick. You're fine, man. I got ya."

Ellis ripped open his first aid and began pulling everything he could from it. Nick watched him with offhanded amusement—Ellis looked so serious.

Nick's lungs began to fill again with air. He felt dizzy, tired. His body ached everywhere. He could feel himself bleeding, it felt warm, but at the same time he felt oddly cold.

Ellis moved around Nick, pulling at his suit to expose wounds. He bandaged them tightly. Beside him, Rochelle had joined him as Coach stood watchfully over them. Nick let out a sigh, closing his eyes. He slipped into darkness.

"He's going to be okay, Ellis," Rochelle said, griping Ellis' arm. The southerner had began to sob, shaking at the conman roughly when his eyes had closed. "It's okay, sweetie, he's going to be okay, he's just unconscious. We'll have to carry him."

Wordlessly, because he was crying too hard, Ellis knelt as Rochelle helped pull the conman onto the southerners back. Limp and unconscious, Nick was surprisingly heavy. Ellis didn't care. He'd carry him forever if he had to.

With two men unable to fight, Coach and Rochelle had their work cut out for them. They moved as fast as they could, shooting down everything that came towards them, doing their best to keep Ellis safe and Nick alive. But, God, there was so much blood. Ellis could feel it, warm and sticky on his back as the conman continued to slowly bleed out.

_Please, God, please no. Please anything but this._

Ellis prayed hard as he ran, prayed with everything in his heart and soul that Nick would be all right, prayed that they could find somewhere safe to hole up so they could tend to the conman more properly.

God must have heard him in all the chaos, because it wasn't much longer before they found just what they had been looking for. They fought there way inside of the small room. Ellis kicked one Infected crawling at him in the teeth. It was satisfying watching it spit out a mouthful of blood.

Then the door was being slammed shut as Coach and Rochelle threw their bodies against it. Rochelle turned quickly and began to drag a table in front of the door as Coach continued to hold it closed. Together they secured it, gasping and trying hard to catch their breath.

By then, Ellis had deposited Nick gently against the wall. The conman was still unconscious, his head was lolled limply to one side, his face pale, arms lifeless at his sides.

Ellis blubbered incoherently as he tried to find more wounds, but he was fumbling so badly that Rochelle pulled him aside. She and Coach poked and prodded at the conman carefully for more wounds as Ellis fell apart beside them.

If Nick's suit had once been white, it would never be again. Tonight it was painted a lovely shade of red.

* * *

**A/N:** ( super long rambling and not at all necessary to read).

Stupid Smokers and that stupid tower. Seriously happens to me every time. I also think that when survivors get down to a certain health (like in the red where they're doing that really painfully slow gimp) you'd should be able to piggy back them and consequently lose your ability to wield pistols, but they cover you with theirs. I nno, I always thought you should be able to do that…

Also, what is with the lame Mutations? Seriously? Only Room For One? It was super lame. My friend and I did Dead Center and he did all the work (as Ellis ) finding all the gas cans and throwing them down. And I'm like "Well… technically, if I put in the last gas can, doesn't that mean I win?" And, yeah. Yeah it does. It was totally lame. The Parish, however, was a pretty sweet death race. Ellis beat me by a freakin' hair. I was inside the 'copter with him and then it took off and we were like '!" and then as the copters taking off Nick screams "GET TO THE CHOPTER!" and we laughed upon realizing I had lost. But yeah, fun once, but I think I'm done with it. Gimme back Chainsaw Massacre B(

Also, if anyone happens to be going to Minneapolis Anime Convention this weekend (June 18-20th) I'll be a (or the?) bloody Nick walking around with Lucy from Elfin Lied. (Still really bummed my Ellis didn't get to come v_v) I may end up changing into my backup costume of Austria from Axis Powers Hetalia if my Nick cosplay fails hard because I know Austria will do well (it did at Anime Detour, anyways).

Again, thank you for putting up with my random rants, for reading and for reviewing. I really appreciate it!


	10. Chapter 10

Rochelle knelt beside Ellis and slowly drew him into a hug. Ellis clung to her as she rocked him gently. She stroked at his hair, hummed out soft meaningless noises and just let him cry out his frustration.

Ellis sobbed himself sick and he began to drive heave and gasp for air. His throat hurt, his eyes stung, his chest ached terribly, he was almost sure that he was dying. Rochelle sat patiently with him, allowing him to break down.

Ellis eventually wore himself out and his body gave in to its exhaustion. Rochelle sat with him, maybe because she felt obligated, or maybe because she wanted to really be there for him. Either way, she just kept her gaze staring at the young man as she ran her fingers comfortingly through his hair.

If this is what it meant for Ellis to lose Nick, it was only obvious that they would be down two, not one.

But, soon after, something amazing happened. It was the kind of miracle that renewed Coach's faith in the Lord he was beginning to doubt existed. Nick stirred.

…Pain. That was all he could feel. Nick let out a whimper. Pinpricks of agony erupted up and down his body. A breath escaped him in another moan. Coach reached over to rest a hand on his shoulder. Nick tried to open his eyes.

"Nick? Can you hear me? How do you feel?"

Nick coughed weakly. "Like how Keith did when he fell under that lawn mower." At least his sarcasm was still in tact.

Coach laughed. "God damn, Nick… I can't believe you're still here. Let alone talking to me. You're one tough kid."

"Am I that bad off?" Nick tried to move, but his body felt too weak. God, he could go for a cigarette right now. That and he could probably puke out his guts. Nick tried to focus on the taste of cigarettes and not the nausea that was making his head spin.

"You're pretty banged up, young'un. You're lucky to be alive… I ain't no doctor, but I'm going to advise you to go back to sleep and get your strength back."

Nick tried to shake his head. "Ellis?"

"He's fine. He's sleeping."

Nick forced his eyes opened again, trying to stare off into the room to find the mechanic. Coach kindly pointed him out. Nick's eyes blinked closed again, he sighed with relief. In an instant he had slipped back into unconsciousness.

* * *

When Ellis awoke hours later he was greeted with the news that Nick had survived the night and had even spoke a little. Ellis hadn't left his side since hearing the news. He was sitting now, legs drawn up with his elbows resting on them, just staring hard at the conman as though he expected he may die suddenly if unattended. He watched Nick inhale and exhale, watched as his eyes twitched slightly in his sleep, or when he grimaced from pain. Ellis just watched. He did not move or speak, eat or drink, he remained like a statue, waiting for the other to awaken.

Finally, Nick stirred again and Ellis moved forward, silently, waiting. A slit of green blinked out at the mechanic and soon a little grin found its way to Nick's face.

Ellis gripped the conman's hair in between his fingers tightly. It stung. Nick winced up at him. "Don't you dare do that ever again, Nicholas," Ellis whispered angrily. Nick gazed up at him wordlessly. "I swear to God, Nick. If ya do anythin' like that again, I'll kill ya myself." Nick tried to laugh, but he choked on it as his body refused to join in. Ellis' face melted into a softer expression and his fingers traced gently down to cup Nick's face and he pressed their foreheads together. Ellis could feel Nick's soft breaths against his face. "God damn you… What the hell were ya thinkin'?"

"I couldn't let you die," Nick's faint voice replied. His eyes were half-lidded, his smile weak, breaths shallow.

"God, Nick… You're so god damn stupid. When the hell will ya learn?" Ellis' lips met Nick's firmly. "I thought I had lost ya… I thought ya were gunna die. I really did…"

"Naw…" came the soft reply. "I promised, 'member?" Nick's eyes unwillingly closed again. God, he felt tired. Real tired. He could feel Ellis' warmth radiating around him. It felt good. "…I'm yours forever and ever, et cetera, blah blah."

Ellis laughed, kissing the conman again. Nick tried to kiss back, but even that was too tiring. He simply twitched at the others lips against his. Ellis pulled back, smoothing Nick's hair back. "Go to sleep, Nick. I'll take care of ya."

Nick had fallen back into unconsciousness.

* * *

It was the third time Nick had awakened in two days, but this time he felt a hell of a lot better. The only thing that was currently really getting on his nerves was the constant loud pounding in his temples. God, his head hurt.

"Ellis…?" Nick groaned, shifting. He realized he was no longer propped against the wall. His head was in Ellis' lap and the mechanic was gazing down at him. Nick licked at his dry lips, squinting. "Grab me a smoke, will you?"

"Later," Ellis replied gently. "I need to see if ya can get up and move. The military's bombin' has been closer and closer. We need ta start movin' if we don't want to get caught in the middle of it all."

Nick sat up, with Ellis' help. He rotated his legs, felt down his arms and pressed his fingers against anywhere that was throbbing noticeably. He could tell he was covered in small wounds but nothing was too dangerous. What hurt the most when prodded was his aching hip. He reached up to touch the back of his head and could feel that his hair was matted with blood. It was tender. That explained the headache.

"I'm glad to see you moving, Nick," Rochelle said tiredly from across the room. She looked as though she hadn't slept the last two days. In fact, none of the three did.

He gave her a half smile. "I told you before that you guys would miss me if I were gone." He shifted his weight forward and experimentally got to his feet. He leaned hard against the wall, feeling his hip collapsing under the weight. Great… "I think I'm fine. I can walk." Barely.

A rumble of jets shook the room and the four glanced up as bits of dust and ceiling broke away and sprinkled them in a fine white powder.

"Here," Coach said, handing the conman a few white capsules. "This should help with the pain."

"Bottoms up, I guess." Nick threw back his head and tossed the pills down into his mouth. He had to swallow several times until they finally went down his dry throat. He coughed. "All right… I guess we head out?" He turned to Ellis who let out a slow, suppressed sigh through his nose.

They gathered their weapons in silence while above the roof shook dangerously as more ceiling dusted their bodies.

Nick swung his assault rifle around his back and adjusted the strap. In the corner of his eye he could see Ellis staring hard at him. The conman looked slowly to him, offering a slight smile.

"Nick, I took your cigarettes," Ellis admitted.

"Huh? What? Why?" Nick reached down to pat at his empty pockets. He frowned at the other.

"'Cause," Ellis lifted his chin, trying to look intimidating. "Ya don't deserve 'em right now. When ya start listenin' to me and stop tryin' ta get yourself killed I'll consider givin' 'em back."

Nick laughed. "But, Virgil gave me those, not you!"

"The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away," Coach said, chuckling. "I'd do as the boy says, else he'll tear 'em up into tiny little pieces."

Nick shook his head slowly and reached up to pull Ellis' hat down over his eyes. "All right, kid, all right. Fair enough. You better keep 'em safe."

Then they were pushing the door opened, all grinning slightly, even as they were greeted by a crowd of snarling faces.

* * *

God, his hip hurt. Like fucking hell. Nick winced, leaning on the wall of some tattered down hallway as he tried hard to keep up. His gun was gripped in his other hand, and, shit, did it feel heavy. He had never felt so god damn old in his entire life.

"Hey," Ellis said gently as he sidled up beside him. The mechanic slipped his arm around Nick's waist and Nick leaned heavily on him. "Want a cigarette?"

"Fff, that didn't last long," Nick snorted. He watched as Ellis fumbled about in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a single cigarette. Smiling Ellis placed it between Nick's lips and then recovered the older mans lighter and lit the tip. Nick drew in a slow drag and then turned his head away to blow it out. "Ah, thanks, Overalls."

"You're welcome." Probably because he had enjoyed it the first time when they had kissed when Nick had been smoking, Ellis leaned over to kiss him. "But that's a nasty habit. When all this shit's done and over with, you're quittin'." Although, secretly, Ellis wondered if he would miss the taste on the others tongue.

"Ha! Kid, I've been smoking since before you were born." Or at least pretty damn close to it. Ellis scoffed at him with a little and-your-point eyebrow quirk that Nick could only chuckle at. So, he was gonna quit smoking after all this? All right, fine. He'd do it for Ellis.

They limped out to the street where Coach and Rochelle were standing by a manhole. Both looked displeased. Nick came to a slow halt, frowning hard. They didn't expect him to…

"Down the hole, I'm afraid," Rochelle said with a shrug.

"Oh, no. Oh, I do NOT think so," Nick said. He shook his head, puffing at his cigarette. He straightened and moved towards it, Ellis now standing idly by. Nick glared down into the dark abyss. "Fuck that shit. I am not doing this again. I hate sewers."

"Well, you can go ahead and start climbing all these barricades if you like, but I'm taking the shorter way," Coach said and then very promptly descended the ladder into the sewers below. Rochelle shrugged and followed.

"God. Damn. It." Nick took one last draw of his half-smoked cigarette before he threw it on the ground and snuffed it out. "Fuck, I guess we're going then, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Ellis gestured for the conman and with a sigh Nick climbed down the ladder.

When his feet left the ladder they found themselves in ankle deep w-water. Storm water. That's what it was. It was not a sewer. He was NOT walking through human filth. He was not. He was not. He was not. But it was no use. Nick let out a groan of pure disgust, "The smell is _inside_ my head! God damn it!"

Had Nick forgotten the smell of the sewer from all those months back, he was clearly remembering it now. Oh yeah, the memories were coming back. Sloshing through dirty, filthy water while things you dared not look twice at again floated about. Nick gagged, totally appalled. He wondered how the other three were managing to appear not even slightly alarmed. Well, call him queer if they must, but Nick would never, ever, ever grow use to the smell. It was suffocating.

"Look, a ladder!" Rochelle called. "Come on boys, up, up!"

They all scrambled up the ladder, one at a time while filth dripped from their feet.

"Hol-lee shit," Ellis breathed. The four gathered themselves in a tight circle, eyes wide, swallowing thickly in almost perfect unison. The sewer had exited right in the middle of a sea of badly parked and disoriented cars. In the failing light it was obvious that many of them were alarmed. Well, fuck.

"Watch your step." Rochelle moved forward cautiously, gripping a machete tightly in both hands as she crept forward. It was becoming distressingly obvious that there was no way to cross through without having to climb and scramble over parked cars.

However, she lead them faithfully through with little complications—even when a few Infected nearby had stormed after them. Coach had silenced them before they came within reach of the dangerous maze.

"Look," Nick said softly. They all stopped long enough to gaze up at the mighty freeway looming above. Christ, they were so close. "We're actually going to make it, aren't we?" Nick continued, letting out a soft laugh.

"I told ya," Ellis chimed in from behind. The mechanic was finally smiling again and that little hop he had before was back. The man reached up for the ladder, one foot on the lowest bar. He looked to his companions, grinning that goofy grin that made them all smirk back. "I don't know 'bout y'all, but I didn't come all this way to look at it."

When they reached the top, they all stood staring down the freeway. Far in the distance they could see the bridge—their destination. Virgil had told them he had picked up some chatter about the East bridge. They were still evacuating from that area when the four had left the fisherman. They only prayed they still were.

But before any of them could move another step, a thundering above shook them. Two jets hissed overhead. Nick blinked up at them, but he didn't get the chance to gawk for very long.

An explosion rocked the freeway and the four went stumbling backwards. Rubble rained around them in a painful shower. Coughing from the smoke they gathered themselves, trying to figure out what had just happened. When the dirty black smoke cleared, it became painfully obvious. The former mile or two left on the freeway had just turned into an excruciating detour. The bomb dropped from the jets above had destroyed any way to cross.

"You have got to be kidding me," Nick growled. "Those fucking asshole! You know that they can see us! Jesus fucking Christ!"

Ellis brushed the concrete ash and pebbles from his shoulders. "Well, yeah, but Nick." The conman looked at him, face withering with fury. "It sure was cool to watch."

The anger from Nick's face melted away as a rough laugh escaped him. Beside him he could hear Coach and Rochelle joining him. Soon, all four were laughing. Maybe that was all they really needed—a good laugh, because soon the four were moving forward with renewed enthusiasm, seemingly unaffected by the thought they had just been robbed of an easy jog to safety.

They climbed carefully down the broken bridge, slipping and sliding down the rubble. Then they found themselves facing something none of them were really too pleased to have to cross through. It was a graveyard.

"So… This is one of those infamous above-ground cemetery's, huh?" Nick mused. "Creepy, but fancy… and creepy. Did I say that already?"

"It's just a graveyard, Nick," Ellis said. He hoisted up his gun. "But I guess it _is_ kinda creepy with all these zombies walkin' 'round. Kind of like some scary zombie movie, huh? But these zombies didn't come out of the ground. I don't think, anyways…" He began to lead the other three, firing out bursts that took down groups of idling Infected. "Ah, man, this reminds me of the time when my buddy Keith spent an entire year livin' in a cemetery. It wasn't a dare or nothin' either. He just got kicked out of his house and he needed somewhere to stay, so he figured, why not? Now, he didn't see no ghosts or nothin' when he was livin' there—except for this one time when a ghost came up from behind him and stabbed him and took all his money—but I think it mighta been some homeless guy with a white sheet over his head with two little eyeholes cut out and—"

"Ellis," Rochelle breathed, "Sweetie, can this _please_ wait?"

"Okay," Ellis replied automatically.

They moved through the cemetery quickly, ready to be out of it, but it soon became obvious that the stupid thing was built like a god damn maze. Whatever good mood Nick had been in earlier was no longer evident. Every corner they turned and found themselves facing a dead end he let out a string of curse words that even Coach flushed at.

The sun was setting in the horizon and the cemetery was growing eerie and dark. The groans of unseen Infected in the distance made them shiver. The graves were basking in a hue of orange, almost like the entire city was on fire. It was unsettling. But they didn't need to worry, about fifteen wrong turns and a novels length worth of curse words later, they finally found their way out of the cemetery.

Dusk was in full blush now. Maybe it was because the whole city was dead, but for the first time since being here, Nick could see stars. As they made their way towards a ghostly bar, Nick paused to gaze up at the bright twinkles above.

"Nick? What's up?" Ellis asked, tugging at the others sleeve. The southerner's gaze lifted with the others and he stared up at the night sky. "Lookin' at the stars?"

"You know," Nick said, reaching his hand out to take Ellis' comfortably in his. "I heard a poet once say 'stars that clear have been dead for years, but the idea just lives on'. I wonder if that implies to zombie apocalypses too?"

Ellis scrunched up his face cutely. "What do ya mean?"

Nick sighed softly, blinking himself out of his slow stupor. "I don't know what I mean. I just always think of those words when I see stars. I never see stars in the big cities… Anyways, come on, let's get inside before the other two have a shit fit." He led the mechanic inside, still holding his hand firmly in his. They found the other two standing outside the backroom of a bar. Apparently, it would be their home for the night.

The four moved inside and automatically began to pile everything they could in front of the door. When they were done they all found somewhere comfortable to lay down.

Ellis sat beside the conman and with a little smile he leaned his head against the others shoulder, fingers curling around Nick's. "Hey, Nick?"

"Hmm?"

"Whenever there was a meteor shower, my Ma would always drive us out into the country so we could watch it. When I got older, I use to go by myself some nights when I was feelin' bad to look at the stars. Ya can see the stars real well in Savannah's country. I'll show ya some day, if ya want."

Nick smiled softly, leaning over to kiss the top of Ellis' auburn locks. "I'd like that."

* * *

**A/N: **

The poetic line is from a beautiful song called "We Are No Where and It's Now" by Bright Eyes-my absolute favorite band. I adore Conor Oberst with everything in my soul. For some reason, I think Nick would appreciate the band because of the way the lyrics describe things so intelligently and so beautifully.

I really didn't want to write this long ass level and it probably shows. It was PAINFUL to write. It was like pulling teeth, seriously. Godawful. The Cemetery is super ridiculous long and obnoxious. And I kept gettin' distracted with my friend about L4D2 and her buying it for her PC. I think I'll get it for the Mac too when it comes out (/if, since Valve sucks at keeping promises) .

Obviously used Ellis' story about his buddy Keith in the graveyard. It makes me laugh every time. e_e I loosely referenced it, so if it's not word for word that's why.

Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I am very thankful to have you all spurring me along.


	11. Chapter 11

They had curled up together, Ellis pulled safely against Nick's body, his chin resting on the others chest. Nick's hand was lifted slightly, lazily, as Ellis ran his fingers down Nick's palm and then drug his nails gently back up. Behind eyelashes that seemed far too pretty for a man, Ellis' baby blues could not leave Nick's gentle expression.

"Hey, Nick…?" Ellis whispered softly, his fingers locking together with the others. Nick's eyes blinked opened and found Ellis'. "I love you." There… he had said it. For the first time he had verbally admitted it. It felt good. Real good. Nick's lips twitched into a smile and Ellis' heart fluttered.

"I love you too, Ellis." Nick let out a short breath. "Yeah… I really love you." He sounded surprised; almost like it was the first time he had realized it. He blinked several times, until his free hand reached up to tangle into Ellis' auburn locks. "I never thought I would ever say those words again and… mean them."

Ellis smiled before kissing the others chest delicately. He grinned slightly. "I never would have thought someone like you would be my first… for everythin'."

"Yo-Your first?" Nick stuttered. It was cute, Ellis had to press his face into the others chest to keep his giggles quiet. "Really? Huh…" Nick frowned thoughtfully. "I would have thought with your perfect southern charm you'd have the ladies falling all over you by now… You've really never fooled around with anyone?"

"Naw… I mean, I had girls always askin' me out and stuff, but I never really did nothin' but hold their hand. They always made me so nervous." Ellis' hand slid up the others chest and snaked around the conman's neck to fiddle with his hair. "You were married once… weren't ya?"

"Yeah…"

"What happened?"

Nick shrugged slightly, eyes staring up at the ceiling. He had wormed his hand underneath Ellis' shirt and was admiring the warmth of the others body on his palm. He also enjoyed how firm he was, but at the same time how soft his skin was. Ellis squirmed slightly as the conman's rough fingers tickled up his back.

"Well… To be short, I was a selfish pig. I didn't deserve her and she knew it." He shrugged a little. "I think part of it was that we were so damn young. I still wonder if I've grown up yet."

"How'd ya meet her?"

"Hm… One day at a casino, no surprise there, huh? I think she saw me as a project. Some poor neglected boy off the streets trying his best to just get along in life through slight of hand and a charming tongue. She wanted to get me out of gambling and to give me somewhere safe to rest my head. I appreciated it, and I think I ended up mistaking that as love. I asked her to marry me—we were only kids. It was a stupid idea." Nick swallowed thickly, blinking several times. "It wasn't much longer after that when she started realizing I wasn't ever going to change. She hated that about me—the fact that I was still cheating people out of their money and all that jazz. But, that is what I am. I'm a conman through and through. She left me three years later. She packed her shit and walked out. A week later the divorce papers were at my doorstep."

"That's harsh…" Ellis whispered.

"Nah, looking back I'm surprised she stayed as long as she did."

"…Do ya have any kids?"

Nick had to really fight hard to keep back the obnoxious laughter fighting its way from deep within. "_God no._ That was the one thing I knew I would never make the mistake of doing. I'd be one fucked up father."

Ellis shrugged slightly. "Ya never know unless ya tried."

"Christ, Ellis, with talk like that, I'm glad you don't have a uterus—otherwise I'd start getting paranoid."

Ellis chuckled. "So, are we gonna live together and stuff? Like… how real couples do?"

Nick was smirking now, a glint of longing behind his eyes. "Yeah, Ellis. And we're going to have that little white house in some quiet neighborhood by the ocean. I'm going to make love to you every night and tell you how much I love you when we wake up together each morning. I'm going to kiss you a hundred times a day, hold your hand and make you laugh." He took Ellis' face between his hands and smiled fondly at him. "I'm going to love you every. Single. Day.."

Ellis was smiling. Even with the overdone cheese, Ellis had to admit, he appreciated the visual. The mechanic lifted himself up and hovered just over the other. Nick's hands came up to rest gently on his hips and very slowly Ellis lowered his mouth to the others. Their lips met with absolute tenderness.

"I'd really, _really_ like that, Nick."

* * *

They left the safe room early that morning—not because they were particularly eager to get started, but because the military's bombing was getting even closer. They had all awakened to an earthquake-like rumble that had sent ceiling pieces falling down on them. They were running out of time.

Nick's gaze lifted to a soft pink colored home they were going to have to cut through. It was obnoxious, ugly, and out of place in the drab city… But at the same time he found it oddly beautiful—like its imperfections were what made it so visually striking. Then the ground shook and the sound of bombs in the distance interrupted his quiet musing.

They moved forward.

They climbed up flight after flight of stairs, jumped down balconies onto parked cars and sliced through any Infected that made their way towards them—all the while, terrified that the next bomb from above would land straight in their laps and destroy all their hard work in a fraction of a second.

They moved through a pub where barstools littered the ground like stiff corpses. Bottles laid broken behind the bar and the windows were all boarded up. It was dark, glum and uncomfortably muggy inside. It still smelled of liquor and smoke and if they closed their eyes they may have been able to lie to themselves that everything was fine.

They climbed a flight of stairs and—

"God," Nick practically moaned, grinning wide, "I _love_ pool."

"Really?" Rochelle inquired sarcastically as she shuffled through the half dozen worn out tables. "I would have never pegged you as a pool guy." Nick grinned even wider.

"Hey, Nick," Ellis asked, tugging at the conman's sleeve as they moved past the game area. "Can ya teach me one day?"

"Fff, hell, yeah, Ellis. And maybe one day you'll get good enough to beat me."

Ellis grinned at this.

They climbed down a ledge onto a bunch of boxes back to street level where a row of apartments and ghostly houses greeted them. Around them, the world seemed to pause—and then—

"Boomer!" Coach had barely spat out the words when the lumbering thing toppled forward and expelled a gush of vomit all over the man. He let out a growl of rage and stormed after it—unwilling to allow the thing to puke its mess onto the others. He shoved it further and further from them until he slammed it up against a car. He shoved his barrel into its stomach and unleashed a burst of fire. It exploded all over him, sending him stumbling backwards. Around them, from the houses and alleys, the scream of terrorized Infected sounded.

"Coach!" Rochelle called running after him—but then she slipped on the slick ground. She tried to right herself but between the Boomer's gooey vomit and her high-heeled boots—she had little chance. The woman stumbled right into Coach's lap and the two became tangled up on each other.

Shit.

Ellis and Nick moved forward instantly, pressing their backs against each other as they stood beside their fallen companions. Their guns blasted hot fire and light and around them bodies shredded and fell limp, heads exploded in a gory messes and menacing growls became gurgling groans. Dozens of bodies began to pile on top of each other. Soon, there was only silence.

Rochelle did not speak as she picked herself up, vomit spread across her arms and legs when she had fallen. She stared wide-eyed at Coach, mouth moving as it tried to find words to apologize—or maybe make a joke… Whatever she was trying to say, it never came out. She swallowed thickly and helped the man to his feet.

He gave her a long look and then he shrugged. "Shit happens," was all he said in a matter-of-fact tone. Rochelle huffed slightly, nodding quickly in agreement. "Well… I gatta get this shit off me." He looked towards the apartments. "Maybe they still have running water."

And it did. The four decided that the day had been long and their feet and joints ached. They'd stay the night here.

The sound of running water came on seemingly all around them as Rochelle and Coach attempted to clean the messes from their clothes and skin. Nick tilted his head slightly as he listened, hands crossed loosely over his gun hanging around his shoulders. But then…

"Hey, Nick…" The conman's gaze lazily turned to find Ellis. The mechanic was sitting against the edge of a worn out bed, weapon discarded somewhere nearby, one foot caught on the edge while the other tapped slowly on the ground. He was leaning back on his elbows with a boyish grin on his face. "This here's a bed."

Lips pursed, one eyebrow raised, Nick turned to face the other completely. "Ellis… are you trying to seduce me?"

That boyish grin turned into a naughty smirk. "Is it workin'?"

"Yes.." Nick lifted the gun strap over his shoulders and tossed it nosily against a nearby dresser. "But I'm not getting on that bed. It's filthy. Come here."

Ellis practically leapt to his feet and threw himself forward, his hands catching the conman's face and pulling him into an eager kiss. Their tongues met in a clash and Nick backed Ellis against the wall, pulling away only long enough to slip his hands underneath Ellis' waistband to touch and grasp at those perfectly toned hips.

A soft breath escaped Ellis' lips as the other hands slipped from his hips and began to tug at his heavy, obtrusive overalls. It was interesting to feel the curves that Ellis had hidden underneath all his clothes. Nick's kisses followed down the others chin, enticing soft pleased noises from the mechanic whose fingers had long ago found his dark locks.

Pants and boxers now gone, Ellis didn't have time to be coy. Nick's hands moved about the small of the mechanic's back and pulled him close. Ah, that smell… Although obvious was the stench of death, bile and blood, there was an even more distinct smell. A smell Nick had learned to associate with this beautiful, beautiful southern man.

"N-Nick…" Ellis said softly. He mustered the other far away only long enough to find the others belt and undo it. His fingers awkwardly found the man's zipper. Although clumsy, each jerky movement was admirably arousing. Ellis hooked his thumb on the pants and off they came and his hands fondled Nick's body hungrily.

Ellis wrapped his arms around the others neck and Nick pressed harder against him. He could feel Nick's breath against him.

The mechanic's ankles locked around Nick's hips and his hands moved about, tangling in the others suit as he tried to find a way to occupy his hands. Fingers found their way inside of him and a passionate kiss was the only thing that could have possibly distracted Ellis from the strange sensation. Another moan, a grunt and a thrust pushed the conman inside the mechanic. They both gasped and the tension in their bodies built. But Nick's hands came to cup the others face and with expert smoothness, he kissed Ellis into relaxation.

The thrusts Nick made were firm, but gentle as he worked himself further inside. Ellis felt a little dizzy and a flush overtook him.

"Ellis?" Nick asked quietly. He took the others chin and leaned close. "Does it hurt?"

"I'm jus' a li'l dizzy s'all… I'm okay…"

"Perfect."

Ellis laughed, but it quickly turned to an appreciative moan as those formerly gentle but firm motions became sudden intense and eager thrusts. The dizzy feeling washed over Ellis again but he gladly allowed it. There was pleasure in that feeling—an almost overwhelming pleasure. Those kisses, hard, calloused and unlike anything he would have expected he would enjoy, were perfect.

A few more thrusts, a few more moments of those calloused hands gripping his sides would drive Ellis crazy. If he didn't come soon, the mechanic was most positive he was going to die of bliss. It didn't seem like such a horrible thing, but he doubted Nick would appreciate it.

But before his heart could stop from all the pleasure, he felt Nick shudder against him with passion—and Ellis' favorite part? Nick called his name as he did. It was so beautiful, so fervent, so longing and grateful. God, it was lovely. Ellis own body jerked forward and he gasped. An orgasm racked his whole body in an intense spasm and he pressed his face against the other, his fingers grasping. Nick held him, kisses wet and hot on his neck. Then the spasms ended and Ellis collapsed back against the wall, only held up by Nick's body pressed against his.

Ellis was flushing hard, panting, but he was smiling widely. Nick leaned forward to kiss those swollen lips, lavishing him over and over. He would have continued had it not been for the sudden explosion that sent them both to their knees.

"Well, fuck!" Nick said, staring down at the obviously stunned mechanic tangled in his arms. "Guess the military has no patience for romance." Ellis snorted out a laugh and the two climbed to the feet. Ellis smiled shyly. "God, I love you, Ellis." Nick chuckled and kissed the other again. Ellis melted against the kiss, grabbing at him as though he wasn't quite ready for their love making to be over with. Unfortunately, they had no choice. If another bomb like that hit, they'd all be dead and Nick was determined to live long enough to make love to Ellis another day.

They dressed each other, smirking as they did, appreciating every little intricate design that let their hands linger for a little longer. They were barely finished when Rochelle knocked on the door to inform them they had to move on—it was not safe here…

…It was barely an hour later when they found the bridge tower they had been searching so long for. When they spotted it, huge and menacing in the sky the four came together into a tight embrace.

* * *

**A/N: **-a total mess after posting the sex scene- I…uh… I… um… okay. Waaaah T-T

I KNOW I skipped the crescendo moment with the tractor, because, seriously, it's ridiculous to expect they really had to do that. Crawl up the god damn siding, seriously. (Someone mentioned that it's always Rochelle that screws you over. I agree. She's always effing things up for me)

I have always loved the fact that you can bash down the keys on the piano in that pub. I do it every time for good luck. XD It's even more fun when you've got everyone lined up beating on it. It sounds totally retarded. I had to mention it since I wanted to work it into the story, but I couldnt' find a way to make it run smoothly.

Only one chapter left.

Thank you for reading and reviewing. Honestly, it makes me smile and want to continue even when I feel lost on what to write next.


	12. Chapter 12

They scrambled up the tower's ladder and had they not been so excited they may have complained that it was both long and completely ridiculous to climb. When they reached the top, Rochelle shoved opened the door and they pooled outside.

There was the bridge—beautiful, elegant, just waiting for them to cross. And then…

"Rescue 7, this is Papa Gator, do you copy?"

"They sound like soldiers," Coach offered softly. He nodded towards the corpse where an obvious soldier laid propped against a barricade, his throat torn out. In his left hand was a radio. "Someone should talk to them…"

On the radio, Rescue 7 answered. "Preparing for take off. ETA in 10 minutes."

Nick snatched the radio from the corpse and clicked down to talk. "Uh… hello?"

"Jesus Christ!" came the astounded voice on the other side. "That's coming from the bridge! Bridge identify yourself!"

"Uh…" Nick frowned slightly, then with one eyebrow quirked at his companions answered matter-of-factly. "Name's Nick. I've got three other people with me; Coach, Rochelle and Ellis."

"Bridge. _Are you immune?_"

"I think that's pretty obvious," Nick replied dryly.

"Negative, Bridge. Are you immune? Have you encountered the Infected?"

"Yeah." Nick snorted. "Sure, you could say that." Encountered the Infected? Fucking assholes, look around.

"Rescue 7, are you equipped to take on Carriers?"

A new voice responded. "Affirmative."

There was a long silence until the soldier finally responded. "Bridge, what is your location?"

Nick glanced up, gauging the setting sun. "We're on the west side…"

"Bridge, all other locations have been evacuated. You must lower the bridge and cross to the east side to the remaining helicopter. Do you understand? You have fifteen minutes."

Nick sighed, glancing to his companions that all shrugged. "Yeah, we got it. Don't you dare leave us."

There was the crackle of dead air over the radio until, maybe out of pity, the soldier responded. "God be with you."

He had never seen so many abandoned cars in his entire life. There were miles and miles of them, just sitting there—empty, forsaken. It made Nick shudder with the thought of how many of these people hadn't made it out alive. He never got to think hard about it, though. Around him, the world was a violent screaming roar of chaos.

For every car that was abandoned, it appeared that whoever had been driving it was now an Infected—an Infected that was hell bent on making sure the four's last stretch to freedom was one of pure misery and terror.

Everywhere around them screams of the blood-thirsty once-humans sounded. They clawed at the four, bit at them and threw themselves on top of them. Even as they were pelted with showers of bullets or had a limb sliced right off they still came at them, crawling, spit drooling down their enraged faces.

It was like they couldn't accept that someone—god forbid—should be left alive.

The Survivors crawled over rubble, slid across the roof of cars and pulled each other up onto parts of the bridges that had collapsed under the heavy bombing of the military. More than once they were forced to backtrack when they found themselves facing a gaping hole in the bridge. It was maddening. They felt their arms growing tired and their breathing was becoming harsh in their own ears. Blood slicked their arms and faces—some of it their own, most of it not. Behind them, was a wake of dead bodies.

Then, suddenly, almost like it had snuck up on them, there was hum of the helicopter's blade. As they fought their way closer, Rochelle pointed. "It's the 'copter guys! It's there! It's still there!"

But there was no time to rejoice. Just as they sprinted down the ramp towards the docks, there was a terrible shudder that shook the ground. It was a Tank. God, of course it was.

"Run past it! Run, run, run!" Nick screamed, shoving at Rochelle and Ellis who had turned to stand and fight. They hesitated for a moment but then they quickly followed. He was right, they were too god damn close to risk being killed now.

A piece of concrete sailed over their heads and crashed into the fencing. The fence groaned under the weight. The metal moaned—and it almost sounded human—as the entire thing collapsed forward. It landed directly on Coach—pinning the man under its heavy mass.

"Jesus Christ," Nick breathed. The other three stopped immediately, tugging and pulling at the fencing, trying hard to free the man. But it was quickly proving to be impossible.

Behind his grimace, Coach offered a smile. "It's okay, kids, you go on. I've got you." His hand—covered in his own blood now—shook as it pulled his pistol free. As best he could with the crushing weight, he aimed it towards the charging Tank. "You do ol' Coach proud."

There was a horrible sense of dread that filled the three as they made one last effort to lift the fencing together—and failed. Rochelle let out a sob, shaking her head in denial. Nick grabbed her arm and his eyes met with the husky Georgian man. There was nothing the conman could say to even begin to express his gratitude for all the close calls Coach had saved him from, from all the time that the big man had been there to pull him back to his feet, or give him some oddball story to laugh about… there were no words to describe the respect Nick had—and so a simple nod sufficed.

Ellis and Nick pulled at Rochelle. She sobbed and kicked as they pulled her, but the other two proved stronger. They wrestled her into the back of the helicopter and not even before they could seat themselves it was flying into the air. Coach's fate was sealed.

And bless him, he went down in a hail of fire, laughter on his tongue.

The three sat in near silence, huddled together with Rochelle in the middle. She was sobbing hard still, her face pressed into her hands as Nick and Ellis held her close together. They all wept.

When the helicopter landed forty minutes later, a rush of men entered the helicopter and pulled the three to their feet. The soldiers did not look pleased to see them.

* * *

God, it was really going to end like this, wasn't it?

"On your knees, hands behind your head," came the strict voice of someone from behind them. A rough hand guided them all down onto their knees as they faced a short wall of cement. It was splattered with blood.

They had been through too much. They had seen too much… It was just too damn risky… They just couldn't risk it. They couldn't risk any more Infection.

Nick's fingers were locked behind his head and he could feel his body shaking. His knees were digging into pieces of concrete below. He felt his heart shudder. Behind them there was the shuffle of metal on metal, the familiar sound of a gun being loaded. God they had come so far.

Nick looked to his left where Ellis knelt beside him, kneeling in a similar position as he was. The young man's hat was missing, probably lost during their sprint across the crumbling bridge—or maybe when the helicopter had taken flight into the air. Nick couldn't remember. Ellis' auburn curls were wavering in the wind and Nick wondered why he had always hid them under that hat. They were beautiful. The color reminded him of the sunset long ago when they had first kissed… Yes, that little orange-red that had melted together beautifully. He would never forget that color.

Ellis looked to him. His face was streaming with tears. There was a cut across the bridge of his nose, a bruise just above his left brow and his lips were chapped. Nick wanted to kiss it all away. He wanted to kiss away the tears. He wanted to take the other in his arms and whisper that he loved him more than anything in the world. He wanted to tell Ellis that everything would be fine.

"Nick," Ellis choked out, each breath he took in was catching in his throat. "Nick, I love you. I love you, Nick."

Nick smiled. "I love you too, Ellis." He didn't care that he was told not to move. His left hand fell away from the back of his head and reached out for the man kneeling beside him. Without hesitation, Ellis' hand found his.

"Ready," came that same voice from before. _Click, click _came the shuffle of guns as they rose. Something cold pressed into the back of Nick's head, but he had eyes only for Ellis.

Ellis let out a sob at the touch of the barrel and he was shaking his head, face twisted with horrible realization.

"Ellis, everything will be okay," Nick reassured, squeezing the others hand tightly. Ellis nodded quickly, forcing a smile out from behind his tears. Nick felt tears in his own eyes. When he blinked they streamed down his cheeks. "We're going to be okay, Ellis. Everything will be okay. I love you."

Ellis tried to whisper his _I love you_'s again, but his voice refused to come. Nick knew though. He could see those lips forming the words over and over.

There was an ache in Nick's chest. A burning. But, everything felt… okay. He was aware of how the sky was blue above, how it smelled of the sea, how the wind was gentle on his skin. His hand was in Ellis and their eyes were locked together—mysterious green and lovely blue. Nick did not dare to think of anything else—especially about how unfair all of this was. He just smiled hard at the mechanic and all his love was behind that smile.

Everything would be okay. Somewhere deep inside of Nick's aching heart, he knew it was true.

That goofy little smile Ellis always slipped him found its way to the mechanic's face. A gentle laugh of appreciation left Nick—he noticed it, and God, did he love it.

"Fire!"

___We will be lifted, up from all of this.  
Yeah, we will transcend the insignificance of our existence.  
Yeah, your body's gone, but angel, you will live._

* * *

**A/N:**

Although the ending to this absolutely destroyed me inside to write… it also felt… right. I always agreed with Nick's statement that they'd probably be lined up against a wall and shot. It also saved me the pain of having to write a cliché ending with 'rainbows and lollipops'. If there is a demand, I have considered writing a 'cliché' ending, but only if I must.

The last 3 lines are from the song "We Are Free Men" by Bright Eyes. To be honest, everything I kept writing to sum up everything paled in comparison to those words. I'm only sad I didn't write it myself.

Thank you for reading and reviewing. Thank you, honestly. Without you guys this wouldn't have ever been finished.


	13. Alternate Ending

**_ALTERNATE ENDING_**

_They scrambled up the tower's ladder and had they not been so excited they may have complained that it was both long and completely ridiculous to climb. When they reached the top, Rochelle shoved opened the door and they pooled outside._

_There was the bridge—beautiful, elegant, just waiting for them to cross. And then…_

_"Rescue 7, this is Papa Gator, do you copy?"_

_"They sound like soldiers," Coach offered softly. He nodded towards the corpse where an obvious soldier laid propped against a barricade, his throat torn out. In his left hand was a radio. "Someone should talk to them…"_

_On the radio, Rescue 7 answered. "Preparing for take off. ETA in 10 minutes."_

_Nick snatched the radio from the corpse and clicked down to talk. "Uh… hello?"_

_"Jesus Christ!" came the astounded voice on the other side. "That's coming from the bridge! Bridge identify yourself!"_

_"Uh…" Nick frowned slightly, then with one eyebrow quirked at his companions answered matter-of-factly. "Name's Nick. I've got three other people with me; Coach, Rochelle and Ellis."_

_"Bridge. _Are you immune?_"_

_"I think that's pretty obvious," Nick replied dryly._

_"Negative, Bridge. Are you immune? Have you encountered the Infected?"_

_"Yeah." Nick snorted. "Sure, you could say that." Encountered the Infected? Fucking assholes, look around._

_"Rescue 7, are you equipped to take on Carriers?"_

_A new voice responded. "Affirmative."_

_There was a long silence until the soldier finally responded. "Bridge, what is your location?"_

_Nick glanced up, gauging the setting sun. "We're on the west side…"_

_"Bridge, all other locations have been evacuated. You must lower the bridge and cross to the east side to the remaining helicopter. Do you understand? You have fifteen minutes."_

_Nick sighed, glancing to his companions that all shrugged. "Yeah, we got it. Don't you dare leave us."_

_There was the crackle of dead air over the radio until, maybe out of pity, the soldier responded. "God be with you."_

_He had never seen so many abandoned cars in his entire life. There were miles and miles of them, just sitting there—empty, forsaken. It made Nick shudder with the thought of how many of these people hadn't made it out alive. He never got to think hard about it, though. Around him, the world was a violent screaming roar of chaos._

_For every car that was abandoned, it appeared that whoever had been driving it was now an Infected—an Infected that was hell bent on making sure the four's last stretch to freedom was one of pure misery and terror._

_Everywhere around them screams of the blood-thirsty once-humans sounded. They clawed at the four, bit at them and threw themselves on top of them. Even as they were pelted with showers of bullets or had a limb sliced right off they still came at them, crawling, spit drooling down their enraged faces._

_It was like they couldn't accept that someone—god forbid—should be left alive._

_The Survivors crawled over rubble, slid across the roof of cars and pulled each other up onto parts of the bridges that had collapsed under the heavy bombing of the military. More than once they were forced to backtrack when they found themselves facing a gaping hole in the bridge. It was maddening. They felt their arms growing tired and their breathing was becoming harsh in their own ears. Blood slicked their arms and faces—some of it their own, most of it not. Behind them, was a wake of dead bodies._

_Then, suddenly, almost like it had snuck up on them, there was hum of the helicopter's blade. As they fought their way closer, Rochelle pointed. "It's the 'copter guys! It's there! It's still there!"_

_But there was no time to rejoice. Just as they sprinted down the ramp towards the docks, there was a terrible shudder that shook the ground. It was a Tank. God, of course it was._

_"Run past it! Run, run, run!" Nick screamed, shoving at Rochelle and Ellis who had turned to stand and fight. They hesitated for a moment but then they quickly followed. He was right, they were too god damn close to risk being killed now._

_A piece of concrete sailed over their heads and crashed into the fencing. The fence groaned under the weight. The metal moaned—and it almost sounded human—as the entire thing collapsed forward. It landed directly on Coach—pinning the man under its heavy mass._

_"Jesus Christ," Nick breathed. The other three stopped immediately, tugging and pulling at the fencing, trying hard to free the man. But it was quickly proving to be impossible._

_Behind his grimace, Coach offered a smile. "It's okay, kids, you go on. I've got you." His hand—covered in his own blood now—shook as it pulled his pistol free. As best he could with the crushing weight, he aimed it towards the charging Tank. "You do ol' Coach proud."_

"Bullshit!" Nick snarled and the other man gave him a startled look. "Ellis, give me that axe. You two; watch my ass." The conman took the axe from the stunned mechanic, lifted it over his head and with all his strength brought it down—over and over until the chain link fence bowed and bent—finally it snapped. It snapped again and again, making a small hole that slowly became bigger and bigger. Beside him, Rochelle and Ellis' guns exploded with bursts of bullets. The Tank's body shook under the heavy fire, but it still stumbled forward, slapping and knocking away anything nearby.

Then Nick was throwing all his weight on the fence, pushing and curling it back as Coach scrambled out. He was bleeding heavily from his shaved head, but God, the man could walk and that was all that mattered.

"Now, let's try this again," Nick breathed, throwing down the axe. "Fucking run! And I mean it this time!"

The four sprinted—faster than they had ever sprinted before. They practically threw themselves inside the helicopter and even before their bodies hit the floor the 'copter was airborne—flying far, far, far away from the deadly mass of Infected below. Flying far away from that nightmare that had chased them for the past two months. Flying away from that Hell on Earth.

Nick panted hard, glancing over to Ellis who was lying beside him, hat lost somewhere along the way. The mechanic was lying on his back, breathing heavily but he was smiling wide and little tremors of laughter were escaping him. God, he was beautiful.

Nick pecked a kiss at the others outstretched hand. "God damn it, Ellis, we made it. We really fucking made it."

"I told ya we would," Ellis said matter-of-factly in between his breaths. He rolled onto his stomach so that the two laid face down together, propped up on their elbows. Somewhere nearby they could hear Rochelle and Coach laughing and hollering their victory cries. Ellis leaned forward and kissed the conman softly on the lips, not caring if they saw. Nick kissed him back, fiercely, smiling all the while.

God damn it, they had really made it. Overalls had been right all along.

* * *

Forty minutes later the helicopter found its destination. The four survivors slowly got to their feet as they were met by a handful of stone-faced soldiers. Nick's hand found Ellis' and together they were escorted onto the deck of a large fancy cruise ship. Although obvious that they had just come from the hell back on the mainland, there were still wide-eyed Survivors staring on from the human-barricade of soldiers. It was the first time the four had ever seen another living survivor in days. It was a pleasing sight.

Nick side glanced towards Ellis and he swung their hands slowly in between them. Ellis looked at him curiously, blinking.

"This is almost like a honeymoon cruise, don't you think? Well, minus our filthy clothes. But that can always be removed. But I guess that would make it more like a honeymoon, right?" Ellis laughed obnoxiously at this.

The escort continued inside of the ship where almost immediately a doctor greeted each survivor. Nick found himself being soothingly removed from Ellis' side by a gentle-faced smiling man. The conman gave Ellis a reassuring nod and allowed himself to be sat in a makeshift office made of white curtains and a plastic fold out table.

The doctor was a middle-aged, obviously tired, but doing well to show kindness and patience. "My name is Dr. Hans. I'm going to be asking you a few questions—please answer as honestly as you can." The doctor licked the tip of his pencil and then without looking up asked, "Name, please?"

It wasn't a very long interview—name, age, birth-date, hometown, where he had been when the Infection had hit… names of next akin. He declined to mention any living relatives.

Soon after the interview, a lovely young nurse came to his side to take blood samples. Once upon a time Nick would have looked the other way, doing his best to not think about that little needle sliding up into his vein and making his head woosh with nausea. Now, though, Nick found himself curiously watching the nurse work to find his vein, secure it and then slide the needle inside. Blood pooled into the vial, then another and then finally a third. Nick was almost surprised he had any blood to spare.

Next he was moved into a secure room where he was asked to remove his clothes, his rings, and anything else on his person. He complied without complaint—but did take the time to fold his suit lovingly. It had served him well. It was also the first time he came aware of how badly ruined it was. For some reason he had held onto the thought that a few runs through a washing machine may save it—but it was obvious in the tears and rips, the blood splatters and mud that it had served its purpose already. He felt oddly sad to watch it go.

But whatever sad nostalgia he had for his suit was gone the instant he found himself in a steaming hot shower. The water burned into all his wounds, stung them and made him hiss between his teeth. It tore away scabs and opened old wounds—but, God, it felt good. He could feel the months of terrible, terrible horror washing away. It pooled around his feet in a dirty pink before disappearing in a haze of bubbles and water.

And although it had been such a long time since he had last felt soap between his hands—he could still very distinctly remember it. How could he not? The entire memory was something too beautiful, too precious to be forgotten. It was a memory caught in the middle of a haze of destruction and death. It was a memory of Ellis—and how perfect everything had felt. The memory made him smile.

It was hours later, sitting still in the quarantine room in a clean sweatshirt and sweatpants too big for his thinned body, that he was cleared. 'You're immune— unable to become Infected or Infect others.' Well, that was probably the most obvious news he had ever heard, but he did not complain—he simply smiled his thanks and allowed them to escort him to his assigned room.

Waiting for him already was Ellis. The southerner jumped to his feet and with a laugh of pure joy threw himself into the conman's arms. Nick caught him and held onto him, fingers digging into the others back and twisting in his hair. God, how it felt good to feel him safe, warm and laughing in his arms. Ellis was safe. God, he was safe.

Ellis was his to hold, his to love. And nothing would ever—could ever—change that.

* * *

**A/N:** The Alternate ending has been expanded and more detailed to the fact that it was originally written up until 1:30 in the morning as I tried desperately to ease my panic attacks after not initially having very good responses to the first ending. It was purely selfish of me to have rushed through it originally, and I apologize. It feels like it's more complete now and if I do ever continue it, it will be another story (although I can't imagine it would be very long)

I deleted it and resubmitted the chapter so that people would be notified.

I am still amused that the official name for my document for this story is "Nick's Breakdown"—being it was never meant to be anything more than one 'chapter' of my venting. It just tickles me to death that it has grown to be over 70 pages now. That's really super cool.

Again, thank you so much for all the reviews and for commenting and reading. I am so thankful and appreciative.


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